The Silent Sword
by moguera
Summary: On the run from both the law and his own confusion, Soujiro must make new friends in order to escape the most vicious of enemies.
1. Prologue and Chapter 1: A New Apprentice

**Rurouni**** Kenshin**

**The Silent Sword**

Disclaimer: In no way, shape, or form do I own Rurouni Kenshin.

**Prologue:**

            The world is a place of noise.  Anyone with their ears intact cannot deny this.  Even in the depths of the oceans and down to the center of the Earth itself, there is no place where some sort of sound cannot be heard.  At any time in any place, there is always some kind of noise, be it the chirping of birds, the rumble of thunder in the distance, or the stirring of grass in the breeze, there is always sound.  Even in the darkness of night those sounds that have disappeared are replaced by new ones.  Silence is an unseen abomination of nature.  It is only present, when something is truly and terribly wrong.

            So of course, it was no surprise then that it was silent that night when it all began.  In a quiet country house in the outskirts of one of the many towns dotting the landscape of Japan, everything had gone quiet.  The lights in the house had yet to go out and inside, the occupants had failed to take any notice of the silence outside; a mistake to say the least.  Not far from the house and outside the limits of the town was a forest.  There was nothing truly remarkable about this forest save of course, that it had gone silent.  As the night grew older, the reason for that silence became painfully clear as a man seemed to materialize out of the darkness itself, making his way, silent as death, towards that house and its unsuspecting occupants.

            Looking at this man, one would have been amazed at how it could be possible for one like him to move undetected anywhere.  His hair was an eye-catching shade of red that one would never think could blend into the darkness so quickly.  It was grown long and tied into a ponytail behind his head.  The man's clothes were dark red, the color of dried blood, over white, colors that could fade easily into the night.  His most distinctive feature was the cross-shaped scar on his left cheek.  The man's eyes were the color of amber, and held the promise of silent death within them.  At his side he wore two swords, one, the katana, the classic sword of a Japanese samurai and the other a wakizashi, also a possession of many who followed the warrior's art.  The man moved so quickly that he barely seemed to have the substance of a shadow as he made his way towards that fateful house.

            The house itself was fairly large.  Strangely enough, all the hallmarks that would declare that anyone of some importance lived there were curiously absent.  However, the man of the shadows knew well enough of the significance of its inhabitants.  Once he reached the house, the man stopped just outside the circle of light cast from the windows of that house.  Carefully, he made his way around the perimeter, looking, probing for some kind, any kind of weakness.  Finally, the man found his weakness, a back door left ajar, practically an open invitation for him to come in and finish his grim work.  The man was not the kind to refuse such invitations and slipped into the house with all the silence of a phantom.

            Barely five minutes later, the man exited that same house as silently as he had come.  The lights in the house continued to burn brightly.  It wasn't until morning, that anyone bothered to notice the silence that hung about the place.  When someone finally entered to discern what had happened, he was shocked to find three corpses.  And in one corner of that house, hidden away in a closet, he also found the shaking figure of a child, shocked and frightened beyond all reason.  His silence was the price he paid for surviving that night.  For those who met the Hitokiri Battousai, also known as Kenshin Himura, rarely departed for anywhere except the afterlife.

            The boy, who had not spoken a word since, was taken in by the same kind man who had found him.  Two days later, he woke up to find that the boy had disappeared.  Weeks passed, and no one ever heard from him.  Not that they would have heard from him had he come back, for it was widely believed that the horrors that had been visited upon him that night had left him speechless for the rest of his life.

_Weeks later:_

            Life in Kyoto went on as it always had.  Many of the citizens hardly seemed bothered by the fact that elsewhere, a revolution that would soon change the face of Japan was occurring.  Few people believed that this revolt would make its way to the streets of Kyoto and were happy to live their live as they always did.

            Seijuro Hiko XIII slowly made his way back towards his home.  He had been living for years now, just outside of Kyoto, making his living as nothing more than a humble potter.  A huge bear of a man, Seijuro Hiko was handsome and looked young for someone who was over thirty years old.  His youthful appearance and muscular physique drew the eyes of more than a few young ladies whom he passed.  Not that he returned their stares for he was quite used to being good looking.  The white mantel that he wore trailed behind him dramatically.  The only thing that suggested that he was human not some god among men was the fact that several large jugs of sake were slung over his shoulder, clunking together hollowly.

            As he walked down the street, Hiko soon noticed that he was being followed.  Looking back carefully, he saw a small figure slipping ineptly from shadow to shadow.  Whoever it was that was tailing him was neither skilled, nor very experienced.  He judged his small shadow to be a boy of about five years of age, awfully young to be alone in the streets.  He could tell from a few brief glances that they boy was thin and underfed.  Hiko understood quite well what this young child wanted from him.  The man slowed his pace to allow the kid to close the distance.  He did so gradually, so as not to raise the boy's suspicions.  The boy foolishly took the proffered opportunity, moving faster to come even closer.  Hiko came to a complete stop and turned away from the boy, pretending to eye the contents of one of the many shops that lined the street.  The boy took advantage of the perceived distraction and struck.

            Hiko was surprised, for someone so young and weak; the boy was incredibly fast, closing the final distance between them in a few short seconds.  However, catching him only slightly off guard would not be enough for the child to get the better of Seijuro Hiko, master of the Hiten Mitsurugi style.  With speed seemingly impossible for a human, much less a man of his size, Hiko spun about and caught the fleeing thief by the collar of his ragged shirt before the boy could get away the wallet he had lifted from Hiko's pocket.

            Again Hiko found himself surprised.  The boy did not struggle to escape, nor did he make a single sound.  Instead, as Seijuro turned the kid to look at his face, he could see the child studying him, watching and evaluating.  If the boy was afraid, he did not betray it.  In fact, the only thing Hiko saw in those sky-blue eyes of his was curiosity as the boy analyzed him from head to toe.  Even as he was looking the huge man up and down, the boy handed back Hiko's wallet distractedly, as if he had done nothing wrong.  For some strange reason, Seijuro Hiko found himself very interested in the child.  An idea formed in his head.  Since that blockhead of an apprentice he had had last time was long gone, Hiko decided that he had to find someone else to inherit the Hiten Mitsurugi.  And, from the look of things, he had found the perfect candidate.

            "You're a strange person," he observed.  The boy did not answer him.  He met Hiko's gaze squarely with one that was equally intense.  "How would you like to learn swordsmanship from me?" he proposed.

            The boy considered it a moment before nodding.  "Do you speak?" asked Hiko.  The boy shook his head.  "Hmm, so you're mute."  The boy merely shrugged as if to say, "If that's what you call it."

            Seijuro set the kid on the ground and began to walk off.  "Follow me," he said over his shoulder.  Without hesitation, the boy followed Seijuro Hiko into his home.

_Thirteen years later:_

            Seijuro Hiko was more than pleased with his selection of apprentice.  He had found out that the boy's name was Takezo.  After looking into the matter further, Seijuro discovered the truth behind the boy's past.  Takezo's family had been murdered by none other than Battousai the Manslayer, whom Seijuro knew to be his previous dumb apprentice Kenshin Himura.  Takezo had apparently watched the whole thing.  Seijuro figured that the boy must have been at that perfect age when he could understand exactly what was happening, but not why; just right for being traumatized.  The revolution had ended ten years ago and now the government that Himura had fought to create was now a reality.

            Takezo had turned out to be much more than a prodigy when it came to swordsmanship.  The boy was sharper than the sword he wielded.  Takezo could learn techniques almost instantly, able to perform flawlessly after seeing a single demonstration.  Despite this, Seijuro had yet to teach the boy the final techniques of the Hiten Mitsurugi style.

            Takezo had been learning from Seijuro Hiko for thirteen years now.  He was a dedicated student, but his nature at times seemed almost flighty.  Whenever he was in town, running errands for his master, Takezo would often take detours and disappear for hours on end.  Once he had vanished for a whole day.  At first, Seijuro didn't begrudge his student a few hours of privacy, but as his periods of elusiveness increased in frequency and length, Seijuro began to get worried.  One day, Seijuro followed Takezo secretly as the boy went to take care of his errands.  Hiko was impressed to see that the young man finished his job first thing.  On the way back, Takezo entered a carpenter's shop.  When Seijuro took a peek at what his student was up to, he was amazed to see that Takezo was taking lessons from the carpenter.  On several occasions when he followed his student, Seijuro saw him learning things from the carpenter just as quickly as he learned swordsmanship from Hiko.  After a while, Seijuro decided to talk to Takezo about it.  Seijuro was quite lenient with him, understanding that Takezo was probably using extra lessons to fill up the void in his life that had been left when his parents were slain.  He even paid for formal lessons in a few areas of interest.

            Another interesting observation that Hiko made was how much his new apprentice had grown to resemble Kenshin.  In fact, the two of them could have been identical twins if it weren't for the fact that Takezo's hair was black and his eyes a constant shade of ice-blue.  Hiko had often found it quite eerie that Kenshin's eyes were capable of changing color depending on his mood; lavender when he was his normal friendly self, blue when he was particularly serious or tense, and amber when Kenshin was feeling downright murderous.

            Despite how far he had come, Takezo remained completely mute.  Seijuro was not sure how to solve that particular problem.  Other than the fact that he was incapable of human speech, Takezo seemed like a completely normal person.  He could read and write easily, though he refused to use writing as a means of carrying on a conversation either, and there were no other problems.  Seijuro figured that one day he would have to arrange a meeting between Takezo and Kenshin.  Perhaps the shock of recognition would be enough to awaken his protégé's voice.  However, he wasn't sure when he should do it.

            The opportunity nearly snuck up on him.  One day, after dispatching Takezo to see to his chores, Seijuro was minding his kiln when who should come up behind him but his own dumb apprentice.  Kenshin Himura had come to finish his training, wielding a reverse-blade sword of all things.  At first, Seijuro was furious that his dumb apprentice should come back after so many years just to learn the final techniques of the Hiten Mitsurugi style.  If it weren't for the fact that Kenshin required them for his fight with Makoto Shishio he probably would have never come back for them.  Takezo had been training with Hiko for thirteen years straight now and he had still not taught the boy the Kuzu-Ryu-Sen or the Amakakeru-Ryu-No-Hirameki.  He refused to teach Kenshin.  However, after talking with both Kenshin and his close friends who had followed him from Tokyo, Seijuro decided to change his verdict on the situation.  Later that night, Seijuro sent Takezo to a place where he knew the boy would not have a chance meeting with Himura.  Takezo was not ready for such an event.

            After the entire incident had passed and Shishio's revolution was no more, Seijuro was surprised to find Takezo sitting in the practice yard, staring at his sword.  Upon seeing that he was being observed by his master, Takezo came up to Hiko.  Seijuro watched curiously as Takezo held up his sword and flipped it so that the dull edge was leading rather than the razor sharp edge.  Hiko understood perfectly, Takezo wanted a reverse-blade sword.  Seijuro reasoned that at some point, Takezo must have observed Kenshin's dedication to the cause of not killing and his use of the reverse-blade sword.  It must have intrigued the boy.

            The next day, Seijuro sent word to an old acquaintance of his, a sword smith living in the countryside outside of Kyoto.  The master sword maker was surprised but willing to forge a reverse-blade sword for Seijuro Hiko's apprentice.  A month later, the reverse-blade sword was delivered.  As Takezo continued to study under him, Seijuro Hiko came to a realization.  It would soon be time.

_One year later:_

            Hiko approached slowly, almost reluctantly as Takezo practiced alone as he usually did.  For the first time in his life, Seijuro Hiko was entertaining some very strange doubts about the level of skill displayed by his student.  _What if he is too strong?_ worried Hiko, _What if I can't give him the motivation necessary to learn the final attack?_

            However, neither would Takezo find the motivation to complete his training if Hiko continued to hold off.  It was just a risk that he would have to take.  A desperate gamble.  "Takezo," he said as he came.

            The boy looked up from his training.  His face, including his eyes, was completely devoid of any form of expression.  Seijuro knew that Takezo was not devoid of emotions, nor did Takezo pretend that he was.  Rather, he let his emotions guide his sword in battle, but never let them show on his face.  It was an effective method, but one that Hiko could manage in any case.

            "It's time," said Seijuro.

            Takezo merely looked at him questioningly.  Hiko knew the unspoken question behind that face.  _Time for what?_

            "It is time for you to learn the final technique of the Hiten Mitsurugi style," said Seijuro, "It is time we finish what we started that day you decided to pick my pocket."

            Takezo smiled amiably and nodded.  His face was the picture of innocence, as if he couldn't understand Hiko's grim mood.  Honestly, sometimes he seemed so naïve for someone who watched his parents murdered in cold blood.  After observing Takezo for a moment, Hiko decided that it was time to begin.

            So he taught Takezo the Kuzu-Ryu-Sen.  Takezo didn't flinch as the nine simultaneous attacks landed feather-light blows on all nine of his body's vital points.  Like he had done with Kenshin and like what his master had done with him, Seijuro held back considerably, simply trying to demonstrate the principle rather than the power behind the Kuzu-Ryu-Sen.

            For a long moment, Takezo simply stood there, silently, as always, contemplating the attack that he had been shown.  He was showing a greater degree of caution than when he had learned any of the other techniques of the Hiten Mitsurugi style.  But then, the Kuzu-Ryu-Sen was different from any other attack used by the Hiten Mitsurugi style, than any sword style ever created.  No other style of swordsmanship taught a technique where one blade suddenly became nine.  Impossible to block, impossible to dodge, the Kuzu-Ryu-Sen was a technique like no other.

            Finally, Takezo turned and faced his master.  "Are you ready?" asked Seijuro.  Takezo nodded, but Hiko didn't notice.  In truth, he hadn't asked his apprentice, but rather himself.  Hiko nodded.  "Then, you must attack me and not hold back."  Takezo nodded again.  Setting himself for the attack, his face slipping back into its expressionless mask, he took up the stance necessary to launch the strike.

            Hiko also set himself for the attack.  With a final breath, he threw his trust into his strength and charged.  For a brief instant, all his doubts were forgotten, forgotten in the exhilaration that he always felt as he watched his blade flash so quickly that it seemed to become nine separate blades at once, nine blades that converged on one opponent, each seeking out its own target, nine blades that would strike unerringly.

            Then, his doubts returned tenfold when the force of his Kuzu-Ryu-Sen was met with the awesome power of Takezo's.  For a terrible second, Hiko was sure that he would be overcome.  But then, the power of a true master of the Hiten Mitsurugi style, combined with the weight of his powerful body, finally overpowered Takezo and sent the apprentice stumbling back from the force of the blow.  After a few faltering steps backwards, Takezo sat down hard.  It was all that Hiko could do to stop himself from sighing with relief.  However, he knew that he couldn't allow Takezo the chance to practice the Kuzu-Ryu-Sen, or then Hiko really would find himself overcome.

            "You now know that the only way to counter the Kuzu-Ryu-Sen is with the same attack.  However, if your opponent is stronger than you, you will still fail because his Kuzu-Ryu-Sen will overpower yours," explained Hiko, "There is however, a technique that can defeat the Kuzu-Ryu-Sen.  That is the Amakakeru-Ryu-No-Hirameki."

            Takezo nodded.  He pondered the information he had been given by his master.  After a moment, his slid his sword back into its sheath.  Seijuro Hiko nodded back at his apprentice.  "You are correct, the Battoujutsu technique when used properly, can counter the god-like speed of the Kuzu-Ryu-Sen, by accelerating the blade to beyond god-like speed, the Amakakeru-Ryu-No-Hirameki."  Then Hiko raised an eyebrow.  "But the reverse-blade sword is not suited for Battoujutsu.  How then shall you work around it?"

            Takezo, of course, did not say anything.  Instead, he smiled cryptically.  Hiko's eyes narrowed.  "Are you ready Takezo?"  Takezo nodded, his smile vanishing as his face slipped back into the same expressionless countenance that he always wore when about to go into combat.

            Seijuro Hiko let his mantle fall to the ground.  He would have to fight unencumbered.  There was no other way to do this.  Hiko set his sword and tensed for the strike.  "Very well then."  This was it, the point of no return.  There was no turning back now.  Seijuro Hiko leapt forward, his blade becoming nine and converging on Takezo, who met the charge head on with a charge of his own, sword still in sheath.

            His left foot hit the ground…

Author Extra: These aren't exactly Author's Notes.  These are little bits of information on Japanese culture and history that have been played upon in the previous chapter.  Today's Author Extra is why it is so difficult to learn the Amakakeru-Ryu-No-Hirameki.  Granted, this does not mean that the technique itself is real, but it is interesting to know why it would be so difficult for swordsmen to grasp.  When Kenshin learns the technique from Seijuro Hiko, Hiko tells his apprentice that the key to the technique is the will to live.  Samurai are known for their resignation to death.  In fact, their willingness to embrace death is legendary.  For a Samurai, there is no greater honor than dieing on the field of battle in the service of his lord.  So, for most swordsmen, possessing such a strong desire for life would be all but inconceivable.  Because the key to the Amakakeru-Ryu-No-Hirameki runs counter to the code of the Samurai (Bushido), it is nearly impossible to understand and therefore, difficult to learn.

Disclaimer: Read prologue for disclaimer

**Chapter 1: A New Apprentice**

            Two people stood on a hill that overlooked the city of Kyoto.  One of them was a huge man, dressed in a white mantel that weighed considerably more on its shoulders than it should have.  The other was considerably shorter coming up to his companion's chest level.  Both wore swords at their sides.

            The large man looked down at his small companion.  "So you have decided not to take the title of master either then."

            His companion nodded.  The big man looked out at the city once again.  "I suppose that it's for the best.  However, if you think that I'm going to let you go free like I did with my last dumb apprentice, then you are very wrong.  If you're going to take your leave, you had better find me another apprentice; one who'll finish the job."  Then, taking a folded slip of paper, he handed it to the younger man.  "Give this to whoever you select."

            With that, the large man stepped slightly behind his smaller companion and lifted his right foot.  "Now go!"  His boot connected solidly with the other's rump, lifting the young man off the ground and sending him hurtling forward as his hands went to clasp his bruised behind.  "And don't come back until you find me a proper apprentice!"

            The small man landed on his feet.  The instant they touched the ground, his form blurred and he was gone like the wind in the trees.  Behind him, the large man stood on the crest of the hill, watching as his apprentice zipped off to finish this, his final errand.  Sighing, Seijuro Hiko lifted up his shirt slightly to inspect the ugly and massive welt that stretched from the lower right side of his torso to the upper left, the second one he had received in his lifetime.  "One of these days," he muttered irritably, "I'll find an apprentice who'll do it right."  He turned and strode back down the hill to continue his work as a potter.

            It was with a groan that Soujiro awoke from his slumber.  Slowly, he sat up in the pile of hay in which he had made his bed.  Brushing pieces of straw from his brown hair, the young man slowly got to his feet, mindful of the fact that he was very thirsty.  Soujiro had been wandering for about a year now.  He was dressed in the same blue kimono, white collared shirt and hakama that he had worn the day Mr. Himura had defeated him.  Its color had faded considerably now and the garment was in tatters.  At his side, he wore a sheath and the white handle of his sword.  In truth, most of the sheath was empty.  The handle and the badly cracked section of blade that remained were all that was left of his favorite sword, the Kikuichimonji Norimune that had been a gift from Mr. Shishio.  Mr. Himura had shattered the katana with a single strike when Soujiro had been on the receiving end of the Amakakeru-Ryu-No-Hirameki.  At the thought of Mr. Himura and the blow he had struck, Soujiro felt his side throb slightly where the reverse-blade sword had smashed into him after breaking through his Kikuichimonji.  It had contained enough force to send the boy into the air and knock him across the room in which they had battled.

            The Room Without Space was aptly named, given how the power of Soujiro's Shukuchi technique seemed to make the space between him and his target vanish, as if he had used magic to close the distance.  However, even Soujiro's most powerful technique, the Shutensatsu, had not been enough to match the speed and power of the Amakakeru-Ryu-No-Hirameki.  

            After the battle with Himura, Soujiro had wandered, looking for his own truth as Mr. Himura had advised him.  He had seen many things in his travels, brief though they may have been compared to Mr. Himura's.  Mr. Himura had been right in saying that neither his truth nor Mr. Shishio's were the only ones.  However, Soujiro was at a loss as to which one was his truth.  _But I have nine more years to find that out,_ he thought wryly.  His stomach growled reminding him that he hadn't eaten the previous day. _That is if I don't starve first._

            Soujiro sometimes wondered how Mr. Himura had been able to wander for ten years without starving to death.  The former Tenken reasoned that Mr. Himura must have worked at odd jobs to earn his room and board whenever he needed to.  However, Soujiro did not have that luxury.  Unlike Mr. Himura, Soujiro was considered a traitor to the government, and he rarely had time to work to earn enough money to pay for his next meal.  While he wasn't wanted publicly, Soujiro knew that the police were looking for him in secret at least.  And heading that search most likely would be the ever dangerous and merciless Hajime Saitou.  Despite all his skill, Soujiro did not relish a confrontation between himself and the former Wolf of Mibu.  He had seen first hand the results of Saitou's handiwork when he passed through Usui's room on his way out of the Juppongatana headquarters.  And unlike Mr. Himura, Saitou did not mind striking the fatal blow.

            Fortunately, Saitou was a very busy man who had plenty of other business to occupy his time that kept him from searching for Soujiro personally.  This allowed Soujiro to use one of his most useful tricks, the ability to vanish into the crowd.  Back when the Tenken had sealed his emotions away tightly, he had been able to mask his presence so completely that even the wolf wouldn't have been able to sniff him out even if Soujiro had passed by him right under his nose.  But now, the inner turmoil that had resulted from Soujiro's confrontation with Mr. Himura leaked out of him at every turn and while his skill was enough to evade the average cop, he probably would not be able to sneak past someone as alert as Saitou anymore.  Nor could Soujiro look for help among Mr. Shishio's old contacts which spread in a vast network across the length and breadth of Japan.  While Soujiro might have found no shortage of those willing to offer him assistance, he couldn't be sure that news of his whereabouts wouldn't reach the ears of Chou, once a fellow member of the Juppongatana, now an agent who worked alongside Saitou but probably still kept his ears open for news in the underworld.

            Soujiro also considered turning himself in willingly.  Many other members of the Juppongatana had managed to reintegrate themselves into society in some way.  Kamatari was the government's prime overseas' agent, Saizuchi working in foreign relations, and Anji was in prison for 25 years by his own choice.  Soujiro knew however, that there would be no easy answer waiting for him in the hands of the government.  He had slain too many men at Mr. Shishio's behest.  Lord Okubo, the Secretary of the Interior was dead by his hand.  No, if the Meiji government didn't immediately demand his execution, then most likely he would be forced to work as their assassin.  And Soujiro had lost any desire he once had to take the lives of others.

            This left Soujiro at a loss.  Thus far he had managed off some of the money he had taken with him when he had left Mr. Shishio, supplemented by caches that the bandaged man had hidden around the country wherever he had established one of his secret hiding places.  But that money was quickly running out and even Soujiro did not know the exact location of every single hiding place Lord Shishio used.  Many of those he had known had been found and cleaned out by the authorities before he arrived, which meant that it was becoming very difficult to take care of himself.

            _If you are strong, you live.  If you are weak, you die._  Mr. Shishio's motto told him that if he couldn't help himself either by finding money or earning enough to support himself, Soujiro did not deserve to live.  Mr. Himura had taught Soujiro that the need for assistance was not condemning.  Soujiro still struggled with this concept.  But he was gradually becoming more convinced of its correctness each time he received help or a charitable offering from the occasional person.  People had helped him when he was in need as if it were the most natural thing in the world.  It just went to prove that there was more to Mr. Himura's truth than met the eye.

            Soujiro had occasionally entertained the thought of visiting Mr. Himura and his companions in Tokyo, to at least thank them.  But Saitou no doubt already knew that Soujiro was in some way indebted or connected to Mr. Himura and probably had the Kamiya Dojo under surveillance in the chance that Soujiro would come to pay Mr. Himura a visit.  And the last thing Soujiro wanted was to bring trouble on someone whom had already given him so much.

            Where then?  To the Oniwaban Group in Kyoto?  Saitou probably had them under observation too, knowing very well Aoshi Shinomori's brief association with the Juppongatana.

            Perhaps Soujiro really aught to get a job if only for a short time and try to replenish his strained funds.  Perhaps if he picked the right job that would allow him to stay out of sight, he would be able to earn sufficient money to suit his needs for a while without attracting the attention of local authorities.  It was a gamble that Soujiro would just have to make.  He also needed to buy a new set of clothes.  Not only were they getting faded and ragged, but they made it easy for the police to mark him.  Soujiro could kill two birds with one stone by getting new clothes.

            Sighing, Soujiro took his leave of the barn, checking carefully to make sure that no one would see him leaving.  It was very early in the morning, even for farmers who typically liked to get an early start.  Seeing that the coast was clear, Soujiro left the barn and went into the woods that bordered the small farm, knowing that there was a stream not far away.  Soujiro slaked his thirst and made his way to the road, skirting around the edge of the farm where he had spent the night.  It would not do to be seen by the occupants.

            Back on the road, Soujiro began to walk in the direction of the nearest town.  He had been on the road for half an hour when it came in sight around the bend.  It was quiet as it was still early in the morning, but that was just fine with Soujiro.  It would give him time to look at likely places to find a job without being noticed by the still sleepy inhabitants.  As he wandered through and around the town, Soujiro picked out a few likely places that might have a job that suited his needs.

            The sun rose higher and the various businesses in the town began to open their doors to customers.  Taking a deep breath, Soujiro went to investigate his first choice.  It was an inn on the outskirts of the town.  Soujiro hoped that they might have need of a waiter of someone to take care of the laundry or some other nondescript job.  As he entered, he noticed that the place was rather empty.  The dinning room/tavern downstairs had several small tables that were at this time mostly unoccupied.  A few early risers sat at one or two of the tables waiting patiently for their breakfasts to be delivered.  Soujiro took a seat at a table in the far corner of the room, away from the other occupants, hoping that they wouldn't be able to recognize them.  Not that they would unless one of them happened to be a police officer in disguise.

            Not much later, a waitress came out to deliver breakfast to one of the customers.  She wore her black hair in a braid that stretched all the way down to her waist and her brown eyes had a warm comforting look to them.  The uniform she wore for the inn was a dark gray color.  She must have been just about Soujiro's age.

            She set the tray of food in front of the man she was serving and began to make her way back to the kitchen.  About midway she spotted Soujiro and came over to his table.  "May I help you sir?" she asked politely.

            "Yes," said Soujiro, "I was wondering if you were hiring."

            "I don't know about that," said the waitress, "You'd have to check with the owner.  I'll get her."

            She went back into the kitchen and came back with an elderly woman.  She came up to about Soujiro's chin.  Her hair, which ran freely down to her shoulders, was a distinguished gray color.  Her equally gray eyes displayed her kindness openly.  Over her kimono she wore an apron.  No doubt this woman was the inn's cook in addition to its owner.  "Otsu here told me that you were looking for a job," said the woman.

            "Yes that's right," replied Soujiro, "Do you have one.  I would only be staying a short while, long enough to pay for my next stop."

            The woman thought it over for a little bit.  During this time, Otsu went back to serve one of the other guests.  "Otsu is always busy serving the customers and I could use help in the kitchen," she said smiling.

            "That would be perfect!" exclaimed Soujiro happily.  The woman chuckled at his enthusiasm.

            "That's nice," she remarked, "You can get started as soon as you're ready.  I'll find you a room and you can leave your belongings there."  Soujiro nodded.  He got up and followed the woman down one of the hallways.  "By the way," she added, "My name is Osugi.  If there's anything you need, just ask me."

            "That's very kind of you Ms. Osugi.  Thank you."

            "Oh it's no trouble at all.  You're not the first traveler to come through here to earn a little money to help him on the way.  As a matter of fact, they're fairly frequent around these parts."  That was all the better for Soujiro.  It meant that there was nothing suspicious about him wandering in from nowhere looking for a job.  Osugi turned to look over her shoulder.  "By the way, you do know that it's illegal to carry a sword nowadays," she remarked.

            Soujiro nodded.  "I do.  But I won't have any problems because this sword isn't any good."  He pulled the Kikuichimonji Norimune to show the woman that more than half of the sword's length had been broken off and the blade that remained was badly cracked.

            "Even if it is illegal to carry a sword around, if you're going to defy that law, why would you carry a sword that was broken off?" asked Osugi.

            "Well, I don't have any intention of using this sword," answered Soujiro, "I carry it because it was a gift from my father."  In a unique way, that wasn't a lie.  Mr. Shishio had always been the closest person to a father that Soujiro had ever had.  "It's my way of remembering him."

            "Your father must have been a great swordsman," said Osugi politely.

            Again Soujiro nodded.  Mr. Shishio had always been one of the strongest swordsmen he had ever known.  "He was."

            "You remind me of that nice man who passed through here a few years back," said Osugi, "Oh what was his name?  I can't quite remember.  He carried this strange sword with a reversed blade.  I just can't remember…"

            "Mr. Himura!"  Soujiro couldn't stop himself from gasping out the name.  There was only one swordsman in all of Japan who carried a reverse-blade sword.

            "Himura!  That's it!"  Osugi stopped and looked at Soujiro.  "Were you a friend of his?"

            "No, not really," admitted Soujiro, "I've just met him once or twice."  That much at least was true.  Of course he neglected the fact that he had sliced that same reverse-blade sword that she had seen in two at the time of their first face to face meeting and also how close he had come to killing Mr. Himura in their second.  Soujiro had also spoken to Himura once while hiding in the crowd that had gathered around Lord Okubo's dead body.  Mr. Himura had not seen him then.

            "That's nice to hear.  He was such a nice man.  He cooked, cleaned, even did laundry.  And he was so polite."  They stopped at a door.  "This will be your room," she said, pointing at the door, "My room is two doors down."

            Soujiro bowed to her.  "Thank you again Ms. Osugi."

            "Would you be so kind as to tell me your name young man?" asked Osugi.

            "Soujiro Seta."

            Osugi nodded.  "A nice name for a nice boy."  She opened the door and Soujiro went inside.

            Soujiro looked around the room.  It was sparsely furnished with a futon, a chair, a lamp, and a small table.  The far wall had a fair sized window in it.  There was plenty of room for him to deposit his belongings, of which he had practically none, save his sword.  He laid his sword down next to the futon and went back out into the hallway.

            "You may want to change into something a bit cleaner," suggested Osugi.

            "I would, but this is the only set of clothes that I have," replied Soujiro sheepishly.

            "I thought as much," said Osugi, "Oh well.  We'll take care of that.  Don't you worry."

            "Uh, thanks," stammered Soujiro.

            "Now let's put you to work in the kitchen young man," said Osugi imperiously.

            Soujiro nodded and followed her into the kitchen.

            Takezo had been wandering for a couple of weeks now.  He had yet to find a substitute apprentice for his master.  He had searched through many towns that he passed through for a suitable replacement, but found no one with the inclination towards swordsmanship.  As he looked through yet another village, Takezo sighed, one of the few verbal sounds he was capable of making.  It was a challenge to find anyone who would be a suitable candidate to learn the Hiten Mitsurugi style.

            Takezo was beginning to loose hope as he entered yet another city whose name he didn't know.  He doubted that there would be anyone here who would fit the bill, but he might as well look just the same.  As he passed by an inn on the outskirts, Takezo sensed the presence of a very strong person.  It was a charisma that almost equaled that of Master Hiko.  There must be someone in that inn who had trained in the martial arts in some form or another.  Perhaps he would be the one Takezo had been looking for.

            Takezo crept stealthily along the outside of the inn; letting his feelings guide him to the source of that strange aura.  As he came around the back, Takezo saw a window on ground level.  The feeling was overwhelming now.  Whoever it was as just inside that window.  Takezo moved until he was hidden under it.  Then, slowly, he rose up to peer through the window and into the kitchen inside.

            A young man who must have been about his age was standing in front of the counter chopping vegetables.  Takezo ducked down quickly lest the stranger see him.  He was the one alright.  A single glance had been enough to show Takezo all that he needed to know.  The person's body was muscular, but compact and with a low mass, perfect for withstanding the forces exerted by the god-like speed of the Hiten Mitsurugi style.  That man had trained to be fast, that was for sure.  But would he make a good swordsman.         As he sat down and leaned his back against the wall, Takezo sighed again.  He would just have to wait and see whether or not the other young man had the potential that he had been seeking.

            Soujiro sighed as he closed the door to his room and lay down on his futon.  For a while he laid there, hands clasped behind his head, staring aimlessly at the ceiling.  It had been a long day's work, but the work itself wasn't all that hard.  Not only was he finally earning money, but his room and board were also free, one of the conditions of employment that Ms. Osugi had explained to him.  At least now he could stay and work here without worrying about the money that he was earning going to paying for staying here.

            Soujiro stiffened; he could have sworn that he sensed something outside the room.  Was somebody out there?  With blinding speed and fluid motion, Soujiro rolled to his feet, instinctively grabbing his sword which he had laid by his futon.  Soujiro drew his sword as he rose into a fighting position, only to be reminded that the blade was nothing more than a badly cracked shard of metal.  Outside, he saw just the slightest flash of black hair as somebody ducked under the windowsill.

            Soujiro's body blurred and he crossed the distance between himself and the window in an instant.  He flung it open and peered into the darkness outside.  There was nobody there.  However, looking down, Soujiro found the footprints of his mysterious observer on the ground outside the window.  They led off into the darkness and around the corner of the inn.  Whoever it was had to be fast…very fast.  _Who could that have been?_ wondered Soujiro.

            Maybe it had been a cop or government agent, somebody who was out to catch him.  It seemed likely.  After all, he was secretly wanted by the government for his crimes.  However, Soujiro couldn't imagine how they would have caught up with him so quickly.  He had spent the entire day in the kitchen, save the meals, which he took with his hosts.  Nobody but them would have seen him, except for maybe the men who had been in the dining room that morning.

            However, the police would certainly do more than skulk around outside his window.  Sighing in resignation, Soujiro slid the window closed and went back to his futon.  He lay facing the window so that if the person came back, Soujiro would be able to see him or her.  The stranger did not return that night and Soujiro slowly drifted off to sleep.

            He was the one alright.  Takezo sat with his back against the wall of the alley where he had chosen to spend his night.  He sat, resting his sword, scabbard and all against his left shoulder.  As he waited out the night, Takezo considered how to approach this person.  He could already tell that the guy was about his age and already possessed considerable skill with a sword.  That would give Master Hiko a head start on teaching this one.

            But how to approach him.  Takezo had the feeling that he couldn't just walk right up to the swordsman.  He would have to wait for the right moment, perhaps when the person was out alone.  There he would probably have a better chance of communicating with him in private.  It was a problem for the next day.  Takezo closed his eyes and fell asleep, careful however to remain alert should an enemy try to attack him.

            How he hated deskwork.  It was the bane of every officer of the government, particularly those for whom actions spoke louder than words.  And Hajime Saitou was just such a man.  He sat behind his desk in his office in Kyoto, going through all sorts of paperwork.  He was in full uniform, his cap set on the desk, off to one side and out of the way.  His sword stood upright on a rack within easy reach.  He was amazed that he hadn't grown fat and complacent sitting behind such a desk doing reports for his superiors nonstop.  Saitou was a very busy man in many different ways.  He did a lot of work in the police department, tracking down gun runners, opium dealers, conspirators against the government, exceptionally dangerous criminals, and anything else that seemed to be a little to difficult for the more mundane authorities to handle.

            In addition to all these other assignments, which came and went like the winds across the sea, Saitou had another job that he had been working on for over a year now.  Ever since Shishio's revolution had been crushed and Shishio himself eliminated, his followers captured and for the most part reformed, Saitou had been organizing a secret manhunt.  For somebody as busy as he was, it was unusual to invest so much time in a single project.

            Ever since Shishio's plot to overthrow the Meiji had been stopped, Soujiro Seta, the infamous Tenken had seemingly vanished from the face of the Earth.  Saitou however, believed differently.  He knew that Soujiro had to be somewhere because the boy wasn't dead yet.  Saitou had many reasons for pursuing Soujiro.  First, Soujiro owed a great debt to the government for all the lives he had taken, particularly Lord Okubo.  Second, he had been part of a conspiracy to overthrow the Meiji and also had the most extensive list of contacts of any member of the Juppongatana, save Shishio himself, who was conveniently gone from the picture.  Third, Saitou's swordsman's pride had left him with an urge to test himself against Soujiro, the young man who had sliced Himura the Battousai's reverse-blade sword the first time they crossed blades.  Saitou was genuinely curious to see how his Gatotsu would measure up to Soujiro's Shukuchi.  Finally, Saitou wanted to find Soujiro, because he would be useful.

            The door to his office slid open.  Looking up from his desk, Saitou sighed.  "I told you that I don't like to be disturbed while I'm working."

            "I'm sorry Mr. Fujita sir," replied the officer apologetically, using Saitou's false name, "But a police swordsman is here to see you sir."

            "A police swordsman," said Saitou, raising an eyebrow.

            "From Satsuma no less," added the man.

            "Of course," mumbled Saitou.  Damn those Satsuma idiots.  They figured that since their province was one of the primary supporters of the Imperialist revolt that that gave them the right to barge in wherever they wanted around the country.  Not only that, police swordsmen were always arrogant bastards who for some reason believed that because they were permitted to carry swords, it somehow instantly made them the best swordsmen in the world.  They irritated him to no end and more than once he had to almost physically check himself from ramming his sword up one of their asses and show them what their swordsmanship was really worth.  Saitou had once heard that Himura had taken down a whole squad about a year ago without breaking a sweat.  It was obvious that even he could not scratch their hubris.

            _Take deep breaths and try not to pin him to the wall,_ thought Saitou, trying to prepare himself_._

            Saitou's visitor stepped into his office.  The government agent mentally prepared himself for a barrage of remarks about how superior this man was supposed to be compared to him and so on.  Remarkably, he got none.  Looking closely, Saitou instantly saw that this man was no ordinary police swordsman.

            He wore the uniform of a police swordsman and carried the standard sword at his side, his brown hair was cut to regulation length and everything about him spoke about strict adherence to regulation and rule…most deceptive.  The man's body was bulky and thuggish looking.  His face, instead of bearing that customary look of arrogance that most of his ilk wore, was almost expressionless.  His black eyes bored into Saitou, analyzing and studying him in detail.  His aura, amazingly enough, was the aura of a true swordsman.  Saitou instantly recognized that the man was not at his level of skill yet, but he obviously had the potential and the drive to reach that level before his life was over.  He was also older than most police swordsmen that Saitou had met, closer to his own age.  Clearly this man was much more than he seemed.

            This revelation prompted Saitou to smile.  His was a cruel smile that had frozen the hearts of pathetic peasants and hardened warriors alike.  It was the smile of a man who had and still did spill blood on a regular basis.  It was the cold smile of a killer without equal in the art of dealing death.

            And yet, the man did not even flinch.  Saitou actually saw his own smile mirrored on this man's face.  _It appears that I have found a worthy adversary from that no good province after all,_ he thought wryly.

            Saitou waved a hand, gesturing for the underling to leave.  "You may go," he said.

            The man almost scrambled out.  From the moment the eyes of those two men had met, the poor officer could have sworn that the temperature in the room had dropped at least ten degrees.  It was truly an unnerving experience.

            "You are far from the average police swordsman," Saitou remarked offhandedly.

            "It honors me to warrant such a comment from the great Hajime Saitou, former leader of the third squad of the Shinsengumi," replied the man coolly.

            Saitou's smile widened ever so slightly.  _A worthy adversary indeed._  He calmly pulled a cigarette and match from one of his shirt pockets and lit up.  He took a drag and slowly exhaled the smoke into the air in front of him, obscuring the view of his visitor.  The man did not so much as bat an eyelid as the putrid cloud billowed around him.  "You are well informed," he said, "Unusual for a man of your position."

            "Unlike the members of my late family, I am not so fastidious in who I associate with.  I have acquired an extensive network of informers and information brokers around Japan."  The man smirked arrogantly.  However, for once it didn't agitate Saitou in the least.

            "You play a dangerous game, an officer of the law consorting with such criminals."  Saitou flicked his cigarette, sending the glowing embers that remained of the tip tumbling into the ashtray set out on his desk.

            "As does a man who serves the very government whom he had once risked his life to prevent from becoming a reality," retorted the other.

            "Indeed," agreed Saitou nodding, "So, to business.  What brings you here Mr.…?"

            "Seta," replied the man, "Matahachi Seta."

            "Seta hmm," mused Saitou.  He could already guess what had brought Matahachi here.

            "I trust from the fact that you seemed to recognize my name that you already have a good idea as to why I'm here Mr. Saitou."  Matahachi folded his arms across his chest.

            Saitou nodded.  "So, do you have information on the whereabouts of Soujiro Seta or is there some other reason you're here that pertains to him?"

            "I've come for multiple reasons," replied Matahachi, "The one that probably will be of the greatest use to you is that I have information on an incident in Soujiro's past."

            "If you're referring to the incident with the Seta rice merchants, then we are already aware of that."

            "I see; it appears that you too have done some searching around."

            "It wasn't too hard to conduct an investigation looking for the Setas.  To find out that Soujiro's family was killed one night while a supposed rebel was in the area wasn't surprising."

            "Of course they would pin the blame on that damn rebel!  That little bastard Soujiro was too damn cute for anyone to think that he could just cut down his family in cold blood!"  Matahachi was fuming.

            "That's an interesting take on the matter."  Saitou smirked superiorly.  It appeared that he had touched a sensitive spot as far as Mr. Seta was concerned.  "But then, I wonder where Soujiro Seta, an eight-year-old boy could get the means and the motivation to cut down his own family."

            Any sign of Matahachi's former arrogance disappeared.  It was replaced by smoldering rage and hatred.  "I very much doubt that the brat required motivation.  Bastard children like him always bite the hand that feeds them.  It was only natural that he would be ungrateful for everything they did to raise him.  I wouldn't be surprised if he threw his lot with the damn rebel just so he had an excuse to do in his own family."

            Saitou took another drag on his cigarette, before grinding it out in the ashtray.  This man was beginning to amuse him.  "Things are rarely so black and white my dear Seta.  From witnesses I gathered that the Seta family was very abusive towards Soujiro.  That definitely goes towards motivation doesn't it."

            "Ha!  It was better than the little ass deserved.  That's all bastards like him are good for."

            Saitou held down a chuckle while simultaneously suppressing the urge to test his katana on the man's chest.  The man was both amusing and annoyingly close minded when it came to Soujiro.  It was time to get to the heart of the matter.  "What is your relationship with Soujiro?"

            "I was a cousin to his family.  I lived in Satsuma and fought in the revolution while they looked after their rice business.  I visited often as they were my favorite relatives.  Then, just after the revolution had ended, I learned that the entire family had been murdered, cut down one stormy night while a rebel was reported in the area.  One interesting piece of information was that little Soujiro's body was never found, even though he was assumed dead.

            "I joined the police swordsmen in Satsuma and have worked there ever since.  During my time working with them I acquired a network of underworld contacts to ensure that one day I would be able to find that little monster and kill him."  Matahachi's arms had dropped to his sides and his hands were clenched into fists and shaking with barely contained fury.

            "I see," remarked Saitou, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk, folding his hands together and resting his chin on them, "What is your true purpose in coming here then?"

            "I want to help you find Soujiro so that I can watch him walk up to the executioner's block and get what he's deserved since the day he was born."  Matahachi's eyes clouded over as he blissfully imagined what it would look like.

            "Well then," said Saitou, nodding knowingly, "If that is your true purpose in coming here then I am afraid that I must decline your offer of assistance."

            "What!?" Matahachi was furious, "How dare you turn me down after I've waiting for so long for the chance to stick my sword in that kid's gut!"

            Saitou really did chuckle this time.  "Do you know where Soujiro has been these past eleven years?" he asked amusedly.

            "Probably with that thrice cursed rebel friend of his."

            Saitou leaned back in his chair and slowly lowered his left hand to rest on the hilt of his katana, which he had left resting against the side of his chair, well within reach when he sat down.  He was beginning to lose his patience with this man.  "Soujiro Seta did indeed join with this rebel, named Makoto Shishio.  For the ten years since his disappearance, Soujiro trained under Shishio and became an incredible swordsman.  He was known as the Tenken because his swordsmanship was considered to be a gift from the heavens.  Soujiro carried out a number of assassinations for Shishio over the years.  Only recently were we able to break up Shishio's syndicate and kill the rebel himself.  However, Soujiro escaped and remains at large."

            "I don't understand," said Matahachi, "Why does that mean that you are turning me down?  If anything, that should make Soujiro even more worthy of facing execution."

            "The Meiji government has a reputation for being merciful and granting second chances to those who betray it.  Shishio himself was killed in the fight to prevent his plans from reaching fruition.  However, his associates have all been reintegrated into the government and now serve us.  It would reflect poorly on us if we did not grant young Soujiro the same opportunity."

            "Wait a minute!  Are you saying that not only would you let Soujiro escape punishment unscathed?  Not only that but you are saying that you would be living to give that demon a job!  You might as well be rewarding him for conspiring against you!"  Matahachi's rage was intensifying with each passing second.  He had rested his right hand on the hilt of his sword, as if Saitou's words were intended to provoke a fight.

            "I could care less about that," replied Saitou coolly, "The fact is that former traitor or not, Soujiro's skills would make him an infinitely useful asset if placed at the disposal of the government."

            "A brat like that couldn't have any skills worth mentioning," spat Matahachi.

            Saitou sighed.  There it was; that classic exhibition of thick skulled intellect that was the trademark of these imbecilic police swordsmen.  Quite obviously this man wasn't as worthy as he at first seemed.  "Haven't you been listening to a single word that I have been saying?  Soujiro has more than earned his title as the Tenken."

            "I refuse to believe that that bastard could amount to anything in this world," growled Matahachi.

            Saitou smiled mockingly.  "All the more reason not to allow you to get involved in this investigation."

            "Why you…!"

            Saitou raised his right hand to forestall any further arguments.  "You fail to recognize Soujiro's usefulness which means that the likelihood of you bringing him back alive is nonexistent.  For that reason I must bar you from this investigation because we want Soujiro alive.  Also, you also fail the recognize his skill which means that pitting yourself foolishly in battle with him would most likely result in your death.  As you can plainly see, this means that I cannot allow you to continue any further."

            "You…"  Matahachi's voice was trembling with his anger.  "I won't let you stop me!  If you try to I'll cut you down where you sit."  He pulled his sword out.

            Saitou sighed and drew his own sword.  Still in a sitting position, Saitou gripped the pommel of the handle in his left hand and let the tip sag down towards the floor.  With but a flick of Saitou's powerful wrist, he could bring it into position for a powerful attack.  "If you are going to insist on tracking down Soujiro, I'll have to give you a fair idea of the level of swordsman that you are up against," he explained.

            Matahachi had completely forgotten whatever he had been taught about swordsmanship and did not even register how open he had left himself.  He held his sword out to the side, away from his body.  His purpose had been to intimidate Saitou, not actually fight him.  However, Saitou was not easily cowed.  Matahachi didn't answer.  He only glared at Saitou.

            "Very well then," said Saitou lazily.  Slowly, he raised the tip of his blade from the floor, lifting it to point at Matahachi's head.  Twisting his wrist, Saitou oriented the edge of the blade out to his left and held his arm poised for the strike.  Very suddenly, all the muscles in his upper body tensed and then his sword hurtled forward.  Matahachi yelped in surprise and threw himself to the side.  But it was too little too late.  The point of Saitou's sword slammed into the handle of Matahachi's sword with such surety that it must have been his target all along.  The full force of the blow was enough to tear the sword from Matahachi's fingers and send it hurling into the wall behind him.  It impacted with enough force to crack the wood before it fell to the ground.  Saitou's blow had been so powerful that he had stripped a considerable portion of the skin from Matahachi's hand when he had ripped the sword from it and had even broken a couple of fingers.  Matahachi was knocked off balance and went spinning to the floor.

            "Soujiro's skill is at least equal to my own if not greater," stated Saitou, sliding his sword back into its sheath.  During the whole exchange, he had not left his seat.  "Now you know why you would not be able to defeat Soujiro should you fight him."

            Matahachi simply growled as he looked up at Saitou, cradling his injured hand.  Finally, he managed to get to a standing position, glaring at Saitou the whole time.  Saitou waved him away dismissively.  "You are, of course, free to seek Soujiro Seta on your own time," continued Saitou, "However, you will not do it in any official standing.  And if I get to him before you do, I'll have you locked away for interfering with the law."

            Stalking over to the wall, Matahachi bent down and picked up the sword with his left hand.  "Oh," added Saitou, "If you care to try me again, I would be more than glad to show you what I can do standing up."

            Matahachi cursed continuously under his breath as he slid the door open and left.  Saitou settled back into his seat and folded his hands across his lap.  As the door closed, Saitou released a low chuckle and pulled out another cigarette.  _Not as worthy as I thought._

            Rain.  Rain was falling all around.  It drenched him from head to toe, soaking into his clothes, chilling him to the bone.  Despite this, not a single shiver moved across his form.  His feet, calloused from years of labor without so much as a single set of shoes, were planted on the cold hard ground.  His entire body was a mass of pain from the beatings he had received only moments ago, yet he hardly noticed.  Despite the cold and rain, he did not seek shelter.  The only thing colder than his surroundings was the handle of the sword, a wakizashi clutched in his right hand, which barely maintained its grip, letting the blade of the weapon hang down towards the ground, streams of red running down its length to drip of the tip and edges.

            _In this world, only the fittest survive._

            Around him lay the bodies of people he had once called his family.  Their bodies lay still on the ground, growing slowly cooler as blood pooled around them, mingling with the rain that fell from above.

            _If you are strong, you live._

            These were the people who had hurt him day and night; beating him to within an inch of his life, abusing him, working him until he dropped from exhaustion, exploiting him, causing him endless pain at every turn.  From the day that he had arrived here, they had made his life a living hell.  His elder stepbrother loved to hit him with that sword while it was still in its sheath, wielding it as if it were just a long club.  If anything, the younger of the two brothers was even worse.  Whenever his older brother did something stupid or destructive, whenever he did something destructive, whenever anything went wrong, the younger one always blamed it on him.  And then there was his stepsister and stepmother.  While they rarely if ever abused him physically, they never missed an opportunity to scold him, to remind him about just how much of a worthless, thankless bastard he was.  They loved to scream and shout about how he should be grateful that they took him in, put clothes on his back and food in his belly, particularly when he was being beaten by the others.  And then, there was his stepfather, a man whom he should have been able to look to for strength and protection.  He was the man who beat him more than anyone else in his family, pounding him like a slab of raw meat whenever he felt like it, guzzling sake down until it dribbled from his chin and then chucking the empty jar at him.  This was his family.

            _If you're weak, you die._

            So they had been weak.  And so had he.  As he stood their in the rain, he should have been proud of what he had just done.  He had ended the screaming, the insults, the merciless beatings, and the constant slavery.  That night, he had been strong, stronger than them, stronger than he had ever been in his life.  But then, why didn't he feel happy.  A smile tugged at his lips, but it was reflexive, the smile that he had worn almost his entire life, the smile that would not leave his face again for ten years.  That night, rain was not the only water that fell, for trickling down his face, mingling with raindrops and the sweat of fear, dropping down to mix with the dirt and blood that littered the ground were his tears.

            Soujiro let out a slight whimper and slowly came awake.  He had had these dreams ever since the day Mr. Himura had beaten him.  Sometimes he dreamt of the men and women whom he had sent to the underworld.  Other times he dreamt of his old life as a slave to his own family and weathering storms of beatings and sleeping outside constantly on the cold, hard ground.  But the worst dreams to this day, were always of that rainy night, the night he made Mr. Shishio's truth his truth, the night he took up a sword for the first time and cut down the people he had known almost his entire life.

            Looking out the window, Soujiro saw the sky beginning to lighten before the coming dawn.  It wouldn't be long now before he was called back to work.  But what of his mysterious visitor last night?  Would he make a reappearance today?  And if he did, would he be a foe?  Soujiro was not at all sure about what he would do if the strange person who had been watching him last night decided that he was an enemy.  The only weapons Soujiro had were the half blade of his Kikuichimonji Norimune and its sheath (which also could be used as a weapon in a pinch).

            _It's probably better not to dwell on it,_ he thought.  Getting up, he threw his uniform over his shoulder (he always wore his gi, even when he slept and took it off only when he intended to clean it), and left his room.  Osugi had told him that there was a bath in the far wing of the inn, but he would have to stoke the fire himself.  Used to bathing in rivers and lakes, Soujiro was just fine with taking his bath cold.

            Ten minutes later, refreshed and considerably cleaner, Soujiro got out of the room and went to the kitchen to get started on that day's work.  He was bringing in firewood for the ovens when Osugi came bustling in.

            "What?" she gasped in surprise, "You're up and working already!  Have you even had breakfast yet?"  When Soujiro shook his head, she waited until he set down his latest armload before grabbing him by the sleeve of his uniform and hauling him into the dining room.  "Sit!" she ordered, pointing to a table.  Soujiro did so.

            After about twenty minutes in the kitchen, Osugi came out with food for both of them.  Sitting herself across from Soujiro, she bade him to eat.  "You can't do work without starting off the day with a good breakfast," she lectured as she ate.

            Soujiro hid a smile.  When he had been a child, his father wouldn't have even thought about feeding him until he had done at least half of his work for the day, which often meant working until noon on an empty stomach.  It was a much different experience when his employer actually cared about his welfare.

            "You're not an ordinary traveler young man," observed Osugi.

            Soujiro looked up from his breakfast.  "What makes you say that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

            "I can see it in your eyes boy," she said calmly, "When you get to be as old as I am, you tend to be able to pick things up about people.  You haven't always had the happiest life."

            "That is true," replied Soujiro sadly, "But it wouldn't be life without its sad moments."

            "You're also much sadder than you show on the outside," continued Osugi, "It isn't that you've just had unhappy moments, but at one time you suffered some sort of tragedy."

            Soujiro suppressed the urge to gasp.  Could this old woman really read him that well?  "It's not a story that you'd like to hear," was all he could say.  He genuinely feared that if he told her the truth he would be thrown out of her establishment or worse, she would bring the police down on his head.

            "I'll be the judge of that," she said firmly, "Once and a while it's good to get it all out of your system."

            "It isn't a pretty tale and I am not on the best of terms with the law," said Soujiro.

            "I've had more than a few felons come to work for me boy," she said, "Normally they're on the run or simply trying to find a new life.  And if you're a criminal, I can tell you're trying to find a new way to live.  I've seen some bad things in my life, so don't be afraid that your tale is too gruesome for my old ears."

            "Thank you Ms. Osugi," said Soujiro nodding.  He might as well get started.  She was determined not to give up until she got his story out of him.

            "Remember when I told you about meeting Mr. Himura?"  She nodded.  "Well, Mr. Himura and I weren't on the best of terms.  In fact, we were enemies.  About a year ago was known as Soujiro the Tenken."  Osugi's eyebrows went up at this.  "I was an assassin working for a man plotting to overthrow the government."  This elicited a gasp from the old woman.  "I met Mr. Himura four times.  Two out of those four times, I was trying to kill him."

            "So you don't like Mr. Himura?" she inquired curiously.

            "Well, that's a little farther down in the story."  Osugi nodded at this and motioned for him to continue.  "I was an assassin, but I actually committed my first murder when I was eight."  Osugi's eyes widened at this information.

            Soujiro told her everything.  He told her about his family and the beatings they administered.  He told her about his smile and how it saved him from Mr. Shishio's blade.  He told her about the wakizashi and how he cut down his own family with it.  He told her about his ten years as an assassin, living only to kill at Mr. Shishio's beck and call.  He told her about his battle with Mr. Himura and about the aftermath.  And finally, he told Osugi about his first year as a wanderer, going around the country and trying to find his own truth.

            Soujiro lowered his eyes to his food, which he hadn't touched since he had begun his tale.  What would happen now?  Surely Osugi had never heard such a gruesome story before.  Would she want him out of her establishment?  For a few moments, Osugi was silent as she thought on Soujiro's story.  She had been the first person Soujiro had ever told his story to.  Only Mr. Shishio had known the truth of Soujiro's past and that was because he had been there himself.

            "It seems," she said finally, "That you've never really had a chance to be a proper child."  That surprised Soujiro.  Where exactly was she coming from with such a remark?  Osugi continued.  "I can't imagine what it must have been like for you.  However, at least you were lucky enough to find someone who was like a father to you.  And even in the end he was proved wrong in your eyes, I hope you still look upon him as such."

            Soujiro nodded.  "I will always respect Mr. Shishio for as long as I live.  Mr. Himura probably wouldn't disagree with that."

            Osugi's stern façade broke and she started to laugh merrily.  At first Soujiro wondered briefly if she had gone mad.  Finally she ran out of breath and looked at him, still smiling.  "I'm sorry if that offended you.  It didn't have anything to do with your past.  Something just occurred to me.  That nice Mr. Himura was a good man, but he always seemed like a bumbling klutz to me.  And now I find out that he was actually one of the greatest swordsmen in Japan."

            Soujiro smiled and chuckled.  "When you put it that way, it is pretty funny."

            Osugi looked over and saw some of the customers filing in for an early breakfast.  "Oh dear," she said, "That was such a long story that I lost track of time.  We need to get to work now."  With that, she and Soujiro cleared the table they had shared and went into the kitchen to get started on breakfast.

            Takezo had been working just before the sun itself capped the horizon.  When one whittled, one usually used a knife to shave and shape the wood.  A sword was often just too clumsy to do the job; it was too large and broad.  Attempting such a feat with a sword whose blade was facing the wrong direction further compounded the difficulty.  However, as dexterous as he was, Takezo was more than up to the task.

            By the time the sun had fully cleared the horizon, Takezo had managed to shape two medium sized tree branches into a pair of rough bokken.  While they weren't the real thing, they would serve for the task that he had in mind for them.  Getting up, Takezo headed for the inn where his candidate was staying.  Tonight he would test his fellow swordsman's prowess with a blade and his fitness to inherit the Hiten Mitsurugi style.

            Soujiro sighed with relief as he lay on the grass in the failing light of evening.  It had been a light business day and Osugi had given him the rest of the night off.  As he stared up at the stars above him, he sighed with contentment.  He had found someone who had accepted him despite his past.  Soujiro now knew that there were people who could understand where he was coming from, who could help him.  It was a wonderful feeling not to be alone anymore.

            His eyes widened.  It appeared that the mysterious visitor from the previous night was approaching.  Soujiro could sense his presence with ease.  It had been well masked the previous night, almost imperceptible.  But now that his observer had dropped his concealment, his aura was almost overwhelming.  Sitting up, Soujiro's eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw who was approaching.

            "Mr. Himura?" he whispered.  No!  It couldn't be; not unless Mr. Himura had decided to dye his hair black.  This one also wore clothes of blue where Mr. Himura's had been lavender colored.  He also did not have a scar across his cheek.  The man must have been close to Soujiro's own age.

            Whoever it was wore a sword at his side.  But what made Soujiro the most curious was the pair of bokkens that he carried casually against his shoulder.  Stopping a few paces short of Soujiro, he smiled in greeting.  For some reason, Soujiro got the impression that the other was not able to talk.

            "Can I help you?" he asked cautiously, getting to his feet, prepared for anything.

            The man smiled again.  He reached down with his left hand and pulled his sword, sheath and all, from his sash and tossed it aside.  Then, taking one of his bokken, he tossed it to Soujiro and took up the other in a guard position.  Soujiro caught the bokken and the message at the same time.  This mysterious swordsman wanted to fight him, but not in a serious or life threatening manner.  It seemed that he wanted to test Soujiro's skills for some odd reason.

            _Thankfully, he obviously doesn't want this to be to the death,_ thought Soujiro, looking his bokken over.  It was roughly made, obviously without the benefit of good woodworking tools.  _He must have carved these with his sword,_ he thought.  Deciding to oblige his new opponent, Soujiro began his own preparations for the match as well.  He tied off the sleeves of his kimono and the legs of his hakama so that the loose folds of clothing wouldn't interfere with his movement.  Then, he checked to make sure that his sandals were secure and the straps were well tied.  He remembered well the rather high number of sandals he went through when he had been working for Mr. Shishio.  Shukuchi tended to wear them out pretty easily.  Finally, he took his wooden sword and held it in the guard position.

            "Alright," he said, "If it's a fight you want, it's a fight you'll get."

Author's Note:  No author's extras this time I'm afraid.  Earlier in the chapter, you'll notice I had Saitou launch a Gatotsu from a sitting position.  Of course, those of you who watched his showdown with Usui in the Anime might recognize this as his Gatotsu Zero technique, which relies solely on the muscles in his upper body.  It was from this that I determined that Saitou should be able to use that technique from a sitting position.


	2. Companion Swordsmen: Soujiro Returns to ...

Disclaimer: See prologue.

**Chapter 2: Companion Swordsmen: Soujiro Returns to ****Kyoto******

            "Alright, if it's a fight you want, it's a fight you'll get."  The words were barely out of Soujiro's mouth before the two combatants closed with incredible speed.  They came together so fast that their very forms became indistinct and blurry.  They reached one another in the time it would have taken a bullet to leave the barrel of a gun.  But to the two of them, it seemed like an eternity before their bokken came together with the resounding clack of wood on wood.

            It was this sound that caught Otsu's attention as she was doing the last few dishes for the day.  Putting down the one she was wiping clean, Otsu scrambled outside to see what was happening.  The sight made her cover her mouth with her hands to smother a scream before it could escape her lips.  She did not want to distract Soujiro.

            The two fighters were locked together, each straining against the other to try and push him back.  However, their strength seemed roughly equal and neither gave ground.  It was like that for about ten seconds when Soujiro began to lose ground.  Realizing that in a battle of raw strength he would lose, the former Tenken decided to use his opponent's strength against him.  Soujiro suddenly gave up any form of resistance and leapt backwards away from the other swordsman.  He hoped that the sudden loss of resistance would force his opponent to stumble and become open.  His hope was in vain.  The black-haired warrior did indeed move forward, not stumbling, but rather in a perfectly controlled lunge, thrusting and slashing with his sword.  Soujiro leapt backwards again, but his foe stuck to him as stubbornly as his own shadow, forcing the young man to parry and dodge with all the skill he could muster.

            Which, surprisingly wasn't actually all that much.  If there was one thing Soujiro the Tenken was not used to, it was being on the defensive.  Normally, Soujiro relied on his fantastic speed to catch his opponent off guard and force him to fight defensively.  Even when he had sparred with Mr. Shishio, the bandaged manslayer had always waited for Soujiro to come to him, not the other way around.  The Shukuchi was primarily an offensive technique, designed to bring a target within reach in an instant, not to put distance between two close combatants, though it could be used as such in a pinch.

            Unfortunately, Soujiro did not have the luxury of being able to bring the Shukuchi into play yet.  Using the legwork necessary to achieve such speed was difficult and one misstep could send the user sprawling with enough force to break every bone in his body.  In order to successfully use the Shukuchi, one had to tap his foot in order to set a rhythm which he would use to regulate his legwork and control his movement.  And it appeared that his opponent would not give Soujiro the time he needed to start tapping.

            Somehow, Soujiro had to find a way to put some distance between himself and his mysterious adversary who dogged his every step.  Soujiro hit upon an answer when he sensed that his dodging had brought them around to the edge of the forest.  Parrying one last swing, Soujiro leapt backwards with all the strength he could muster and positioned his feet behind him.  They connected solidly with the trunk of a tree.  Before gravity could take hold of the Tenken, he pushed off and upwards, going into a twisting flip that brought him down behind and facing his opponent.  The instant Soujiro's feet connected with the ground, he pushed off again, jumping as far back as his legs would carry him.  He was very surprised to see that his challenger did not pursue this time, but instead, stood facing him, sword arm hanging easily at his side.  Despite his apparent openness, Soujiro could see the muscles, though relaxed, were like coiled springs and ready to bring the sword instantly up into a parry.

            Soujiro rested the back of his bokken against his shoulder.  As he began to tap his foot rhythmically on the ground, Soujiro realized that he was smiling.  He was enjoying himself.  He had not fought using a sword of any kind since Mr. Himura and he had clashed.  The feeling was…exhilarating.  And for once, it wasn't a life or death situation.  _I could get to like this,_ he thought.

            The pace of his tapping increased.  He kept tapping for another five seconds.  _There!_  He had it.  Without any warning, Soujiro pushed off the ground in a straight charge at his opponent.  With each step, his foot impacted with the force of a gunshot.  He moved with such incredible speed that he vanished in the sight of both his opponent and Otsu, watching from the kitchen door.  As was usual, his rhythm was perfect.  Soujiro loved the feeling, the wind in his hair, the ground beneath his feet being reduced to dust as he moved with speed never thought possible for a human being to achieve.  He had not fought in a long time, but his old skills had come back to him quickly and his strength had not fled with him.

            His enemy did not flinch as the super fast swordsman bore down on him.  Soujiro brought his bokken down in an overhead slash, hoping to score a blow across the head.  Then, his target was no longer there.  Soujiro reversed the pattern of his footwork and came to an instant stop.  Turning around, he saw that his foe had sidestepped the attack with the greatest of ease.  His eyes moved rapidly, surveying the deep impressions left in the ground by Soujiro's feet.  Resting his bokken on his shoulder, the look on the man's face turned from blank to one of curiosity.  Then, slowly, he began to tap his foot while resting his bokken on his shoulder and looking thoughtfully at the footprints left by Soujiro.

            It took a few seconds, but Soujiro figured out what he was doing.  The man was studying Soujiro's technique, maybe even trying to learn it himself.  But that was impossible.  The Shukuchi had taken Soujiro years to learn.  It was a technique that required a great amount of practice to build the leg power and the endurance needed to reach such speeds and stay there.  Granted, what Soujiro had used against his opponent hadn't been true Shukuchi, but the legwork pattern at a much slower rate, three steps short of the Shukuchi as he called it, referring to the difference in tempo.

            Shukuchi was very different from simple running.  First, the leading foot never extended past the knee, enabling Soujiro to put maximum power into each stride.  Second, the leading foot always hit the ground at the exact same time that the other foot left the ground to go into the next step.  Thus, each step fed on the power and momentum of the last, enabling it to push off with even more strength which in turn fed into the next step, making the Shukuchi's speed and acceleration unmatchable.  Finally, by tapping one's foot, one assigned a rhythm to the movement that made the Shukuchi more than a simple dash.  The rhythm is what gave the user control and even enabled him to do things like come to a stop or change direction instantly.

            But the important thing was that the wielder needed to have the leg strength to supply power for the initial kick.  If he didn't have that, he wouldn't be able to even start.  So Soujiro watched with growing confusion as the man continued to tap his foot at a slowly increasing pace.  When it matched what Soujiro's had been, he pushed off and vanished.  Soujiro saw a line of pockmarks form in the ground almost simultaneously, moving perpendicularly to Soujiro's charge.  His opponent came to a halt a little more slowly than Soujiro did, but it was enough to completely stun the former assassin.

            _How could that be possible?_ He marveled.  When he thought about it, he realized that it wasn't entirely improbable.  His opponent had mimicked Soujiro's three step speed, easily, but he hadn't yet seen what the real thing could do.  Despite that, even three step speed was faster than the infamous godlike speed of the Hiten Mitsurugi style; fast enough to vanish from sight completely.  And yet, this man had dodged it with the greatest of ease, so maybe he already had the strength to manage the Shukuchi technique.  _Well, whatever it is, I'll just have to deal with it,_ thought Soujiro grimly.

            Hefting his bokken and resting it on his shoulder again, Soujiro looked at the man.  "Who are you?" he asked.

            The man smiled and with the tip of his bokken began to draw on the ground.  Soujiro was just about to ask him again when he realized that the man must have been writing his name.  Looking down, Soujiro mouthed the characters that his opponent had written.  "Takezo."

            Looking up, Soujiro eyed the guy carefully.  "So that's your name?"  The man nodded.  Then, Takezo began to tap his foot again.

            Soujiro began to tap his foot as well.  "By the way," he said, "My name's Soujiro Seta."  A second later, they both vanished in a flurry of dust and debris as they used three step.  Soujiro was out of his element.  He had never fought an opponent who could match his speed.  True, Mr. Himura had been able to equal it in the last attack of their bout, but that had been a duel of Battoujutsu, something completely different from what he was doing now.

            They ran alongside one another for a brief moment.  Takezo suddenly switched directions and Soujiro began to alter his course.  They circled each other, looking for an opening with which to attack.  They closed simultaneously and their swords came together.  They parted after that single strike.  Soujiro pressed forward with another attack, hoping the keep Takezo off guard.  Takezo parried his bokken to the side, sidestepped and came back with an underhand slash aimed at Soujiro's chin.  Working his blade around in a quick circle, Soujiro managed to deflect the attack and countered with a horizontal slash at chest level.  Takezo reversed his direction and backpedaled out of the range of the attack.  The two parted again and continued to circle.

            The entire exchange had occurred in less than a handful of seconds, both warriors performing at full speed.  Soujiro realized that Takezo's use of the Shukuchi was just as good as his, despite the fact that it wasn't full speed.  Soujiro decided he needed to use one of his tricks to gain an advantage.

            The Shukuchi builds up an enormous amount of momentum.  One of the best uses of the technique is to defy gravity.  Soujiro was quite used to running up walls and across ceilings as if they were level and upright ground.  Even though there were no walls or ceilings he could use here, the trees that lined the clearing included more than a few thick trunk specimens that were wide enough to give Soujiro ample room to run up.  Picking one such tree, he circled Takezo until they were lined up with the tree with Takezo between Soujiro and the broad trunk.  Suddenly, Soujiro changed direction using the Shukuchi's exceptional maneuverability and charged straight at Takezo.  Takezo turned and rushed at Soujiro as well.  At the last minute, he swerved aside and tried to use a backhanded slash at Soujiro's back as he passed.  However, in doing so, he had removed himself from Soujiro's path, leaving Soujiro with a clear path to the tree.  Soujiro put all his strength into a final acceleration and he was past before Takezo could complete his attack.

            Takezo came to a halt and spun around, his eyes following the plume of dust kicked up by Soujiro's stride.  To his amazement, Soujiro did not stop or change direction as he reached the tree, but rather used the Shukuchi to run straight up the trunk.  About halfway up the trunk of the tree, Soujiro kicked off while turning his body so that he was facing the right way.  He held his sword arm across his body at chest level with the sword cocked for a powerful backhanded slash.  Takezo was vulnerable and open, or so he seemed.

            Takezo settled into a fighting stance with his right foot leading.  Taking his right hand off the handle of his bokken, he slid it partway up the blade and held it there.  Then he kicked off with the Shukuchi, the all important rhythm still fresh in his mind.  As he charged towards the flying Soujiro, the hand that steadied the blade of his bokken became a fist, situated underneath the blade.

            Soujiro's surprise nearly cost him the duel.  Takezo's countercharge had caught him off guard and Soujiro only just barely managed to complete his downward stroke in time.  However, it wasn't so much Takezo's counterattack that surprised him as it was the attack itself.  Soujiro's suspicions were confirmed when Takezo pushed off the ground and launched himself upwards at him, fisted right hand forcing the blade up for a powerful strike which would have dealt Soujiro a crippling blow to the chin when its power combined with his momentum had they collided.  Soujiro's own attack managed to stop Takezo's.  Their bokken were now braced against one another and Soujiro, like most swordsmen a good improviser, used that to his advantage.  Forcing all of his weight onto his bokken, Soujiro forced himself up and over Takezo in a forward flip that carried him into the clearing where he landed in a crouch and came up spinning to face the next attack.

            During the process, Soujiro's head was spinning with confusion.  Having seen the technique itself, Soujiro knew beyond all doubt that Takezo's strike had been none other than the Ryu-Shou-Sen, one of the techniques of Kenshin Himura's Hiten Mitsurugi style.  It was interesting how such techniques suddenly became much more dangerous when they were combined with the sheer speed of the Shukuchi.  _He's already learned how to combine the Shukuchi with other techniques that he knows and using its momentum to add to their power.  But how could he know that?_ wondered Soujiro frantically, _where did he learn techniques from the Hiten Mitsurugi style.  Or did he fight Kenshin too at one time and learn his techniques the same way he learned mine?_  They were questions that Soujiro put aside to consider later.  He understood that he would probably find out, for better or for worse, when this duel was concluded.  So he forced the thoughts aside and prepared for his opponent's next attack.

            Takezo had indeed turned and was coming at Soujiro.  Once again, he vanished as he used the Shukuchi to close the distance.  But Soujiro was able to track him.  Used to moving at such speed, Soujiro's eyes were equally good at watching someone else moving at that same speed while he was standing still.  When using the Shukuchi, you had to school your eyes to track just as fast as you could move; otherwise your targets, and everything else, tended to vanish to you just as you did to them.  Soujiro held up his sword, ready to block what he suspected was another straightforward attack.

            Takezo surprised him yet again when, instead of completing the charge, Takezo leapt straight up into the air.  Soujiro realized that this was another of the Hiten Mitsurugi style's techniques, the Ryu-Tsui-Sen.  True to his realization, Takezo raised his sword above his head as he began to fall.  Just before the moment of contact he slashed straight down with it.  This meant that his swing was at full strength when they would connect and  Takezo was in a perfect position to put the full weight of his body behind the attack.  Soujiro was out of time.  It was too late to try and use the Shukuchi again; he needed to reestablish the rhythm, the thought of which had been abolished by his mind by surprise at facing somebody who used the Hiten Mitsurugi style.  So he took the only recourse open to him and held his bokken over his head, holding the hilt in one hand while bracing the blade with his other.

            Watching from by the kitchen door, Otsu could not stop the gasp from escaping her lips this time.  For some strange reason, she instinctively knew that this would be the defining moment of their fight.  The outcome would be determined in the result of this one attack.

            Their bokken collided.  Soujiro stood rooted to the spot, his feet forced into the ground by the force of the attack.  For a second, time seemed to freeze.  Then, with an almighty crack, both wooden swords broke simultaneously.  The strain on the roughly made weapons was too great.  The front half of Takezo's went spinning of into the air while Soujiro's hands suddenly held a separate chunk of wood each.

            Takezo landed in a crouch, his sword level with the ground.  Soujiro merely stood, hands still clutching the broken pieces of his bokken in a blocking position.  Then, slowly, Soujiro lowered his hands to his sides and looked down at Takezo, who slowly got to his feet.

            Their eyes met and they gazed at one another for some time.  Then, Takezo dropped the pieces of his bokken and bowed a gesture of respect and deference.  Soujiro did likewise.

            Otsu jumped as she heard applause coming from beside her.  Looking over, she saw that Osugi had also come out to watch the fight.  The girl had been so enthralled by the spectacle that she hadn't noticed when the older woman came out to join her.  "These young 'uns certainly know how to fight," she crowed, laughing as she did so.  It was clear she had found the whole incident somewhat amusing.

            Soujiro looked over at their small audience and blushed slightly.  Then, he turned to look back at Takezo, who watched Soujiro with the most curious gaze.  Takezo was holding his chin in his hand and seemed deep in thought as he observed Soujiro.  After a moment, he smiled and nodded to himself and pulled something out of one of his pockets.  It was a slip of paper, folded.  He handed the paper to Soujiro, who took it and unfolded it to get a look at the message inscribed on it.

            _Greetings; I am Seijuro Hiko, master of the Hiten Mitsurugi style.  If you have been given this, then you have been chosen by Takezo, my previous apprentice, as an acceptable candidate to teach the Hiten Mitsurugi style.  Twice now I have taught an apprentice who completed his studies yet declined to become master himself.  If you accept my proposition, you will come to my abode outside of __Kyoto__ to learn from me.  Takezo will show you where it can be found._

            Soujiro looked up.  "So you want me to come and train under your master," he said, raising an eyebrow.

            Takezo, who smiled widely, nodded.

            Soujiro looked back down at the paper.  He wasn't so sure he should do this.  Going back to Kyoto meant many things to him.  If he went back, he risked getting found by Saitou.

            "Can I think about it for a little while?" he asked finally.  Takezo nodded.  He turned and left the clearing, stopping only to pick up the sword he had thrown aside at the beginning of their fight.  The young man disappeared into the foliage like a wraith.

            Soujiro lay on his back, staring at the sky dotted with stars.  He was giving serious thought to the proposition of becoming apprentice to this Seijuro Hiko.  However, there were a number of difficulties.  In addition to the risk of being caught, Soujiro had a number of other reasons why he might have chosen not to.

            Going back to Kyoto meant facing the memories he had of that city, memories of Mr. Shishio, of Ms. Yumi, and of his life with them.  He wasn't sure if he was ready to face those memories.  In addition, Kyoto meant passing through the thrall of the Oniwaban group.  And though Soujiro was sure that Mr. Shinomori understood him, Soujiro also knew that the case might not be the same with the rest of the group of ninjas.  _But if Takezo's with me…_

            Another thing confused Soujiro.  Wasn't Mr. Himura the master of the Hiten Mitsurugi style?  If that was correct, then who was this Seijuro Hiko person?  Was he a trap set by Saitou, set to lure Soujiro into his clutches?

            And yet, in his fight with Takezo, Soujiro noticed that the young man had displayed exceptional skill with the Hiten Mitsurugi techniques that he used during their duel.  Takezo was obviously an active practitioner of the style.  Perhaps he really was taking Soujiro to meet his master.

            _There is always a certain amount of risk in this life,_ he thought, _Sometimes we just have to take a chance and hope for the best._

            "Well," came a voice from towards the inn, "Does this mean that you're going to leave?"  Otsu came up behind Soujiro who sat up and turned to look at her.

            "I think so," said Soujiro softly, "It would probably be best."

            "Why so soon?" Otsu pleaded.

            "I couldn't stay for very long anyway," replied Soujiro, "It won't belong before the police catch wind of me again.  I have to leave before they know I've been through here."

            "And how will going to Kyoto help matters?" demanded Otsu, "You'd be walking right into their hands."

            "Because perhaps the best place to hide is right under their noses," he lied, smiling brightly, "I mean, nobody would expect me to come back to there right?  So that would be the last place they would look for me."

            "I doubt it," said Otsu, sitting down next to him.

            "Don't worry," said Soujiro encouragingly, "I can run if they find me.  And believe me I can run fast."

            "I noticed," replied Otsu wryly.  That brought a chuckle from Soujiro.  "I also noticed that I wouldn't be able to stop you from leaving if you wanted to," she continued, "But I want you to promise that you'll come back and visit someday."

            "I promise I won't forget you," answered Soujiro, "And I'll come back…someday."

            "Thank you," she whispered.  Then, leaning over, Otsu planted a gentle kiss on Soujiro's cheek.  It was just a feather brush of her lips against his skin, but it sent a tingling sensation throughout his entire body.  Soujiro felt his face grow hot as it turned a color that would have put Mr. Himura's hair to shame.  Otsu giggled at his reaction and got up to go inside.  A moment later, Soujiro followed her and retired to his room for the night.

            The next morning, Soujiro left the inn through the back door.  He had a sack containing food that would last him the way to Kyoto along with a spare set of clothing and the money he had earned working there.  At his side, he wore the handle and sheath of the Kikuichimonji Norimune.  Takezo was waiting for him across the clearing.

            Soujiro walked up to the mute swordsman.  "I'm ready," he said, "Let's go to Kyoto."

            Takezo nodded approvingly.  Without any further acknowledgement, he turned and walked around the inn to the road and took the road in the direction of Kyoto, Soujiro following his every step.

            They walked for many hours.  Soujiro was starting to find his companion's silence disconcerting.  He had guessed that Takezo was a mute.  But still, that didn't make the silence any less uncomfortable.  Takezo, for his part, simply walked on as if he didn't have a single thought in his head.

            In truth, Takezo was considering a great many things.  He wondered if this boy could hold up to Master Hiko's training.  Soujiro appeared to have a very delicate nature.  His mind was obviously troubled in some way.  While Seijuro Hiko wasn't insensitive, he didn't tend to be a sympathizer.  Takezo reasoned that he would have to hang around for a little while at least to keep an eye on Soujiro.

            Soujiro's head was spinning.  If this man was the master of the Hiten Mitsurugi style, then he must have been Mr. Himura's teacher.  And if that were true, then this man would probably be ten times better than Mr. Himura.  But would he be like Mr. Himura?  Would he have that kind spirit that Mr. Himura practically radiated?  Or would he be a harsh taskmaster, much like Mr. Shishio had been.  Soujiro didn't know what to think.

            The sun rose higher and Takezo continued on, never flagging or stopping.  His pace, while not very fast, was steady and constant.  Soujiro was beginning to feel back at home, surrounded by the sights and sounds of the world he had immersed himself in after leaving the Juppongatana.  The sky was clear, dotted by only a few wispy clouds.  Soujiro closed his eyes and sighed with pleasure…

            …and nearly bowled Takezo over as he collided with the man's back.  Takezo had come to a sudden halt.  His body went loose and his right hand slowly came to rest on the hilt of his sword.  Soujiro backed away from his companion as Takezo eyed the woods around them warily.  _There must be someone following us,_ realized Soujiro.  He glanced around him, taking in his surroundings in detail, both mapping a potential battlefield and looking for any strangers.

            The rurouni's guess seemed correct when a group of five men stepped onto the road with unsheathed swords.  Soujiro guessed that they were ronin, lordless samurai who often made their livings as bandits.  Perhaps these men had guessed that Soujiro or Takezo or both of them were holding valuable merchandise.  Soujiro mentally chided himself for letting down his guard.  _I must be losing my touch._

            To his surprise, Soujiro noticed that the men seemed to have a very business-like air around them as they approached the pair of swordsmen deliberately.  The one who was apparently their leader came to a halt.  By unspoken consensus, his comrades halted as well.

            "This doesn't concern you," he said to Takezo, "We would like to have a few words with Mr. Seta."

            Soujiro's eyes widened.  The police had never publicly announced that Soujiro was wanted; for fear that word of the nearly successful conspiracy would get around.  So how could these men know who he was?  Were they perhaps former soldiers of Shishio's syndicate?  That seemed likely.  There had been about five-hundred men on Mr. Shishio's payroll when he had set his plan to take over the country into motion.  It was unlikely that all of them had been apprehended.  But what did they want?

            "Your cousin would like us to dispose of you kid," snarled the leader over Takezo's shoulder.

            _Cousin!_ thought Soujiro frantically, _Matahachi!_  Soujiro had heard about his cousin…one of those police swordsmen.  Did Matahachi want him dead to punish Soujiro for killing their family?

            Surprising him yet again, Takezo stepped aside almost amiably.  He smiled obligingly and signaled that the men should go ahead.  Soujiro felt anger and sadness both at the betrayal, until Takezo pulled his sword and sheath from his sash and tossed them to Soujiro.  Soujiro caught the sword and tucked it into his own obi before drawing the blade.  At the same time, he took his keepsake sword handle and sheath and tossed them to Takezo, who caught them.  Feeling back in his element, wielding a blade again, Soujiro turned to face his would-be assailants.  For some reason he couldn't figure out, the sword felt a little awkward in his hand.

            The men spread out and formed an arc around Soujiro.  The two on either end took up their swords and charged Soujiro from both sides, hoping to catch him in a pincer movement.  Soujiro was not one to fall for such strategies though.  Spinning first to the attacker on his left, Soujiro brought his sword up and down in a diagonal slash that cut across the man's torso, the force of the blow throwing the man backwards a few meters.  In a single fluid motion, Soujiro spun in a complete circle, ducking under the horizontal slash he had sensed coming from the attacking man he had put behind him, and brought his blade cutting up diagonally across his other foe's torso, catching him on the chin in the process and throwing the man upwards and backwards.

            Taking a moment to take stock of both his opponents, Soujiro was amazed to see that no blood was flowing.  Looking down at his blade, Soujiro gave a start.  He was holding a reverse-blade sword, a real honest to goodness reverse-blade sword.  _So this is what it feels like,_ he thought almost giddily.

            His other three opponents were taken aback by the speed and ease with which Soujiro had dealt with their friends.  All three of them seemed hesitant to attack.  Soujiro simply stood back and waited for them to come to a decision, letting the dull edge of his sword rest against his shoulder.

            The men exchanged glances.  The two flanking the leader spread out and flanked Soujiro from behind, forming the corners of an equilateral triangle.  Soujiro smiled and sheathed his sword.  All three of his opponents looked slightly stunned that he had put his weapon away.  Soujiro however, had not intention of giving up.  Instead, he slid his right foot forward on the ground and faced the leader of the men.  He rested his sword hand on the hilt of the sword and waited.

            There were several different ways to perform the Battoujutsu.  The one Soujiro used the most was the charging Battoujutsu, drawing the sword when he was within striking distance of the target.  Then there was his Shutensatsu, combining his moving Battoujutsu with the speed of the Shukuchi.  It was the one he had been best at.  There was also Mr. Himura's Amakakeru-Ryu-No-Hirameki, leading with the left foot to give additional power and speed to the blade.  And finally, there was the waiting Battoujutsu, the form that Mr. Shishio had favored.  The user waited until a charging opponent came to within striking distance and then drew.  Soujiro took up the stance and waited.

            Of course, there were risks.  Soujiro was certain that the warrior in front of him would charge first by virtue that he was the leader.  The others, following his lead would attack from behind.  _They'll look to him for their signal to attack._  By using the Battoujutsu, Soujiro could head off the leader quickly then turn to face the two coming from behind.  Things could go wrong.  The men from behind could charge first, or they could charge at the same time.  Soujiro still had options though, so it seemed unlikely that he was getting in over his head.

            Time seemed to slow to a crawl.  Soujiro seemed unusually aware of everything that was happening around him.  As he focused on the man in front of him, Soujiro met the ronin's eyes.  _He's nervous,_ he realized.  Sweat ran down the man's face as he tightened his grip on his katana.

            Soujiro could not truly explain what happened next.  He suddenly felt something change in the man in front of him.  Soujiro had no idea what.  He did realize however, that this change was the prelude to the charge and began his draw.  True to Soujiro's anticipations, he charged forward, raising his blade overhead for a downward strike, foolish considering the type of counterattack Soujiro was prepared to use.

            Never had a Battoujutsu gone off so perfectly.  The blade connected with the man's right flank and dragged across, throwing his body backwards and into the air.  As he flew backwards, Soujiro used his swing's momentum to continue to spin to his right.  As he did so, he raised his sword to block another downward strike coming from the first man behind him.  Bracing the handle with both hands, Soujiro lashed out with his left foot, connecting with his enemy's belly.  The air whooshed out of the man's lungs and he fell back, clutching his stomach.  Soujiro continued his spin and swung out to knock away a thrust from the other man.  Before the man could recover from the parry, Soujiro's sword was inside his defenses, smacking him in six different places in the space of a second.  The man fell without protest, his sword dropping to the ground with a clang.  With him dealt with, Soujiro could turn back to his last remaining opponent.  The final ronin looked at Soujiro, horrified.  He hesitated for a split second.

            A split second is far too long against the likes of Soujiro Seta.  That was all the time it took for him to close the distance between him and his last target.  Using just his wrist, Soujiro gave the man what amounted to a light tap on the side of the head.  Of course, to the weaker man, it felt like something much more powerful.  He was out in an instant.  Soujiro still had time sheath the sword before his split second was up.

            _That was too easy,_ he thought, feeling curious.  Why had Matahachi sent such weak minions to take him down?  Soujiro thought it likely that Matahachi had either not learned of Soujiro's reputation as the Tenken, or refused to believe it.  The latter was something Matahachi seemed prone to do.  Soujiro still remembered Matahachi from when the man came to visit his family on their estates.  Soujiro remembered how Matahachi always remarked that little Soujiro would never amount to anything.  Matahachi was arrogant and always assured that he was correct in his judgments of people.  It would be just like him to make a slip like this.

            Takezo stood patiently by as Soujiro pondered the mystery of why his cousin had sent these men after him.  _They won't be able to find me soon,_ he thought.  Mr. Hiko was obviously a very well hidden man.  Had Mr. Shishio known that the teacher of Himura the Battousai had been living under his very nose in Kyoto, he would have dispatched Soujiro to end Mr. Hiko's life.  Such a fact meant that Mr. Hiko was very good at disappearing.

            Coming up out of his reverie, Soujiro remembered Takezo.  He pulled the sword from his sash and handed it over to his mute companion.  Takezo took the sword and smiled his thanks.  After securing it on his side, he handed Soujiro the Kikuichimonji.

            "Thank you," said Soujiro, glad that Takezo had helped, but curious about how he had chosen to help.  Why had Takezo made Soujiro fight.

            The answer, when it hit him, seemed obvious.  _He's taking me to study under his master.  Takezo must want to have a detailed assessment of my skills and abilities so that he can help in my instruction._

            Smiling brightly Takezo turned and took off down the road.  Soujiro hesitated a moment, but shrugged and followed him.  They left behind them the five men Soujiro had knocked unconscious, strewn about the road.

            Far away from the trials of Soujiro and Takezo, another man was facing important trials of his own.

            "Kenshin!" Yahiko was practically screaming, "Can you explain to Ugly here that I've got more important things to do than clean this place!"

            "You aren't getting out of your chores that easily!" Karou screamed back, her voice a thousand times more threatening and, when it was contorted with rage, her face a million times more frightening, "You can't get out of doing your share every time you want to go off and flirt with Tsubami!"  This incited Yahiko's rage even more, if such a thing was possible.

            _Not again,_ thought Kenshin mournfully, his eyes as wide as western dinner plates as he watched the fierce exchange while he chuckled nervously.  Both parties were on the verge of exploding and Kenshin knew that if he didn't defuse the situation soon, the brunt of their anger would most likely be directed at him.

            He tried the first recourse, placation.  "Now now," he said, trying to calm them down, making placating gestures with his hands, "You need to calm down, that you should, both of you."

            They didn't appear to Kenshin and their fight was getting more intense by the second.  And so, Kenshin tried his second recourse, compromise.  "Perhaps if both of you cleaned part of the dojo you would finish faster, that you would."  Kenshin nearly fell over backwards as the two fierce adversaries rounded on him simultaneously.

            "HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT!" demanded Karou with a voice that would have sent Makoto Shishio back to the hole he crawled from and with a face that was equally intimidating, "I HAVE LESSONS TO TEACH!  I CAN'T WASTE MY TIME CLEANING THE DOJO!"

            "I WOULD NEVER LOWER MYSELF TO WORKING WITH UGLY!" roared Yahiko, though he had already done so a number of times, "AND I'VE GOT IMPORTANT STUFF TO DO TOO!"

            Karou rounded back on Yahiko.  "HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU!?  FLIRTING WITH TSUBAMI IS NOT AN EXCUSE FOR GETTING OUT OF YOUR CHORES!"

            "Oro!"  Instead of helping, Kenshin's second recourse had only made the situation worse.  He sighed in resignation and resorted to his third and most consistently successful recourse, surrender.  "Why don't I clean the dojo?" he suggested timidly, smiling nervously.

            Karou was calmed so fast one would have never been able to tell that she had ever been in a bad mood.  "Why thank you Kenshin," she said cheerfully, "That's so nice of you.  At least you're polite, unlike some people I know."  Karou finished with leveling a withering glare on Yahiko.

            Yahiko slapped Kenshin on the back, nearly knocking him flat on his face.  "Yeah, thanks a bunch," he said happily, "At least you understand my situation better than Ugly."  He shot a glare of his own back at Karou.  They both left their separate ways, leaving an utterly glum Kenshin behind them.  "Oro."  Kenshin sighed again and went to gather water and rags for cleaning the floor.

            He was running back and forth across the floor of the main practice room, pushing a wet cloth in front of him, when Kenshin heard a loud voice from the front entrance of the dojo.

            "Yo Kenshin!" shouted Sanosuke Sagara, "You in there?"

            "Yes Sano," replied Kenshin easily, "I'm in here."

            Sano came into the practice room and groaned when he saw Kenshin doing the floors.  "They suckered you into doing their chores again didn't they?"

            "Yes Sano; that they did," agreed Kenshin, going back to work.

            "Kenshin," groaned Sano, "You're gonna have to stand up to them some day."

            "I tried to stand up to them; that I did.  However, you know how difficult it can be, especially when trying to stand up to Ms. Karou."

            Sanosuke nodded sagely.  "You've got a point there Kenshin.  But surely after guys like Shishio and Saitou, standing up to the Little Missy and the Brat should be a piece of cake for you."

            Kenshin chuckled wearily.  "Actually, I would much prefer to fight with Shishio again than Ms. Karou; that I would."

            "You're crazy Kenshin," said Sano, slapping his forehead, "You're going to have to learn to stand up to the Little Missy if you're going to marry her some day."

            "ORO!"  Kenshin was so surprised that his arms slid out from under him on the cloth as he came to a sudden stop, sending him crashing face first into the floor.  The former manslayer leapt to his feet as fast as his god-like speed would allow him.  Kenshin's mouth opened and closed rapidly, but no words came out.  Sanosuke was, of course, laughing his head off at Kenshin's reaction to his little jest.  Unable to find his voice, Kenshin lowered his head in defeat.

            As he did so, he thought about how Karou and Yahiko had forced him to clean the dojo, how Sano was always able to get to him with a jest about his relationship with Karou.  "They're always one step ahead of me; that they are."

            Soujiro and Takezo stopped for a midday break.  They had made excellent time, mostly due to Takezo's scorching pace.  As he looked down at his worn sandals, Soujiro wondered if his silent companion actually walked at god-like speed as well.  Reaching into the haversack, Soujiro unpacked a small amount of food for a light lunch for the two of them.

            They ate in silence.  As he ate his food, Soujiro was alert, not wanting to be caught off guard again.  Takezo seemed completely at ease.  But he had seemed like that on the road too.  There was no telling how many men Matahachi had sent to take care of him.

            Despite their worries, lunch went on without incident and soon the two were on the road again, making their way towards Kyoto.  At this pace, Soujiro gauged that they would be there within a week.  _I wonder if it's changed any,_ he thought as he followed Takezo.  Undoubtedly, western influence would be more pervasive than it had been in Mr. Shishio's day.  But the people probably wouldn't have changed any.

            The sun dipped below the western horizon, slowly plunging the road into darkness.  Soujiro was starting to think about finding a place to rest when Takezo pointed out something.  Soujiro looked over and saw that Takezo was pointing into the forest that ran along the road.  Takezo stepped off the path and into the trees, Soujiro following behind quietly.  They had barely penetrated into the foliage when they emerged into a small clearing.  Grass covered the ground and the clear sky, gradually filling up with stars, was visible above.  Soujiro understood.  This place was relatively sheltered, making it difficult for anyone to see them from the road.

            Takezo smiled contentedly and lay down on the ground where he stood, staring up at the sky.  Soujiro did likewise.  The sky above them was covered in stars.  The night was warm.  The summer was growing late and it would not be long before autumn came.  They could sleep outside without any need for a blanket or protection from the elements.  At least as long as it didn't rain.

            "Good night," Takezo, said Soujiro quietly.  Next to him, he already heard snores coming from his normally silent companion.

            The leader of the band that had attacked Soujiro earlier that day came to his senses about two hours after the battle had concluded.  Opening his eyes slowly, the man was mindful of the fact that his entire flank was on fire.  The strike he had received might have even broken a couple of ribs.

            Around him, the rest of his band slowly came to, groaning from the strain of their grievous wounds.  The leader grimaced as he thought about the process of the fight.  Had that boy not been wielding a reverse-bladed sword, they would have all been dead, with their blood staining the road on which they lay.

            "Seta must've been crazy sending us out after someone like that," grumbled the leader.

            "If he is, then that is no concern of yours," came a voice from up the road a short distance, "At least, not anymore."

            The five ronin whirled around to look at the man who stood before them.  He appeared to be in his late twenties.  He wore a simple, unobtrusive set of clothing that was brown in color.  His eyes were a piercing shade of green.  Long black hair fell down his back in a tightly woven braid.  A thin mustache arched above his upper lip.  Of course, the most noticeable thing about the man was the sword strapped to his waist.  The expression on the strange man's face was grim.

            "Who're you?" demanded the leader of the ronin.

            "I am what you aren't," said the man cryptically, drawing his sword, "And what I am is alive."

            The five men tried to rise in challenge to the implied threat in the man's words, however, none of them managed to make it all the way to the standing position before the mysterious swordsman was upon them.  Seconds later, bleeding from dozens of wounds each; five very dead ronin fell to the ground, never to rise again.

            With a flick of his wrist, the warrior sent the blood flying from his blade.  He then sheathed it and went on his way as if what had occurred behind him was but a mere illusion.  A traveler who might have come across the scene would have noticed that the ground was covered with a strange series of pockmarks that almost resembled footprints.

            Soujiro awoke feeling refreshed and ready for another day on the road.  Looking around, he noticed that Takezo was already gone.  Soujiro sat up and wondered where his companion had gone.  Had Takezo already left without him?

            Soujiro sighed in relief when he saw Takezo coming back from deeper in the forest.  He held a string in one hand with several fish attached.  Takezo must have gotten up early to catch their breakfast.  Soujiro appreciated the effort.  While he carried enough food to last them both all the way to Kyoto if they ate it sparingly, it would be a good idea to supplement their supplies with what they could forage on their way.  In the spirit of being helpful, Soujiro began to gather wood for a fire to cook the fish.

            Ten minutes later, the fire was burning cheerfully and several of Takezo's fish were impaled on small wooden spits to be roasted.  Some they would eat now while others they would cook in order to preserve and carry with them.  After roasting the fish, they ate two apiece and packed the others for the road.  Once that was done, Soujiro and Takezo went on their way.

            Matahachi didn't take well the news of the failure of his men.  "Are you certain Ishiro?" he asked.  The room he and his companion were in was spacious.  It was mostly bare, save the mats that covered the floor and the windows wood and paper windows that lined the perimeter of the room where the wall met the ceiling, letting in a substantial portion of the light in the room as there were few lamps.  In appearance it was a much larger version of the room in which Soujiro had fought his final duel with Kenshin Himura.

            Matahachi knelt on cushions on the far side of the room, his sword on the floor to his left, betraying his mistrust of the man in front of him.

            The grim swordsman standing before him nodded silently.  "The boy defeated them with little effort on his part."

            "I can't believe I employed such bumbling fools," growled Matahachi, his hands tightening on the fabric of the cushions beneath him, "They will have to be punished severely."

            "They have already been dispatched," said the swordsman, Ishiro without changing the expression on his face.

            "I take it that you dispensed with them," remarked Matahachi.

            "Indeed I did," replied Ishiro flatly.

            "I'm going to have to employ someone other than idiots to kill my bastard cousin," hissed Matahachi.

            "The boy is more skilled than you give him credit for," commented Ishiro, "After what has happened, you must admit that much."

            "I will admit nothing!" Matahachi snapped, "There is no way the son of a blasted whore could amount to anything more than a common thug!"

            _You stake too much evaluation on the circumstances of your opponent's birth,_ thought Ishiro vehemently, _That__ will prove to be your undoing._

            Out loud he said, "Why don't we wait and observe the boy for a while?" he proposed.

            "Why?" demanded Matahachi.

            "If we watch him closely, we can do so much more than simply execute him for his crimes against your clan," said Ishiro, a cruel smile forming on his face for the first time, "We can find out what people matter most in his life, what things are most important to him and what values he holds dear.  And then, instead of simply killing him, we'll tear apart every aspect of his life piece by piece and bring it down around his ears.  Then, when he is at the climax of his misery, we'll send him to hell with the knowledge of who it was and why we ruined his world, causing him ultimate suffering."

            "I like your plan," said Matahachi thoughtfully, "We shall go through with it."

            "As you wish sir," replied Ishiro respectfully.  _Of course, I have my own reasons for wanting to fight this Soujiro,_ he thought to himself, _He is the only other person that I know of who has learned my technique.  That is the only reason I would work for such an obstinate ass such as yourself Seta._  Out loud he said, "By the way, I know someone whom you might be interested in meeting."

            "And he would be…?"  Seta raised an eyebrow.

            "I won't give you his name yet, but he was a certain second-in-command of the third squad of the Shinsengumi."

            "I am interested in meeting him, that is if he is no longer Saitou's lackey," said Matahachi smiling.

            Ishiro nodded.  "I will fetch him."

            Time passed by much more quickly than Soujiro had ever thought.  He and Takezo traveled in almost complete silence.  In about a week, they had covered the same ground it had taken Soujiro a year to traverse in his wanderings.  Of course, being exactly that, wandering was much more of a meandering pace than the swift businesslike trek of Takezo and Soujiro as they marched back to Kyoto.

            It was with a triumphant smile on his face that Takezo crested the final hill, Soujiro only a few steps behind.  The city laid spread out before them, just south of their position.  The sun was just setting in the west, illuminating the city with its golden radiance.  Takezo smiled and stepped off the road into the woods a little ways and began to set up camp for the night.  Soujiro followed him, like always.  This would be their final night on the road.  As he closed his eyes, Soujiro wondered what the future had in store for him.  Here he was, about to go and study under yet another teacher.  Would this Seijuro Hiko attempt to instill his truths in Soujiro as Mr. Shishio had?  If he was anything like Kenshin, that would probably not be the case.  In which case, Soujiro's quest for the truth would once again be delayed.  Soujiro sighed and closed his eyes.  There was no rush to find his truth about life.  _Time would reveal all things_.  That was his last thought before drifting off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Author Extra: Sword etiquette.

In the conversation between Matahachi and Ishiro, Matahachi's own sword is placed on his left side.  Normally, when two swordsmen are in conversation talking, it's considered polite to place one's sword on ones right.  Since swords are drawn from left to right, placing the sword to the right, where it will be difficult to draw in a fight, demonstrates trust between two people.  Placing one's sword on the left, the same side it is worn on, where it can be drawn easily in times of trouble shows extreme distrust of the other person and is very rude.  The same rules apply when swords are stored on racks.

Author's notes:  One of the questions that plagued me about the Shukuchi is why Soujiro taps his feet before entering into it.  Every source and other fanfic I read failed to give any kind of satisfactory explanation.  So, in the end I came up with the idea that Soujiro utilizes the rhythm of his tapping to regulate his movement while using the Shukuchi, which would explain why he was able to retain his maneuverability while still moving at such high speeds.

The scene with Kenshin was written to introduce a little bit of lightheartedness into the plot.  It also serves as a sort of indicator that Kenshin and company will have a roll to play later on in the story (much later).  With that, it's time to bid adieu until the next chapter.


	3. Training Ends: Wandering Begins

Disclaimer: Don't look here for it.  It's in the prologue.

**Chapter 3: Training Begins: Wandering Ends**

            Soujiro was more than a bit apprehensive at the thought of walking right through the middle of Kyoto.  However, he needed to follow Takezo if he was going to find Seijuro Hiko, so it was a risk Soujiro would just have to take.  Of course, none of Soujiro's nervousness betrayed itself on his face.  To the casual observer, Soujiro was just a calm young man on a walk through the city.  Soujiro's greatest worry was the fact that both he and Takezo were carrying swords, something which would undoubtedly attract the notice of the local authorities, seeing as swords were banned following the revolution.

            Fortunately, Takezo had provided a simple solution for that problem.  The night before they had gone into the city, Takezo had pulled something out of his haversack.  The object was a simple wooden storage sheath.  After removing the handle and guard of his sword, Takezo replaced them with a wooden handle that accompanied the storage sheath.  When the sword was inserted into the sheath, the entire thing looked like a simple wooden staff.  Soujiro knew that it was actually a rather common method for people who still wished to carry swords but avoid attracting the authorities' attention.

            Takezo reached into his haversack again and pulled out a spare wooden handle and tossed it to Soujiro.  The sheath of the Kikuichimonji was already sufficiently plain that it would blend in with the newly attached wooden handle and make the formerly deadly sword appear completely harmless.  Soujiro dropped the distinctive white handle of the sword into his haversack.

            The two walked right down the streets of Kyoto with nobody sparing them so much as a second glance.  The morning was young and few people were in the streets.  The police were not yet out in force as few criminals would attempt anything in such an open setting.  The criminals, like the police, would wait until later in the day, when the crowds that choked the streets could mask their crimes.

            Soujiro felt a little more at ease knowing fewer police were about.  However, he also felt vulnerable out in the open.  One of his best abilities was becoming lost in the crowd, so Soujiro, like the other criminals, preferred to go about his business later in the day, when he could walk among the people, all but invisible to those who searched in vain for him.  But then, thanks to Chou and his own intuition, Saitou probably figured that as well.  _I guess it's not so bad traveling in the morning,_ thought Soujiro, _It's good to get an early start on the day._

            Were he in any mood but his present one, Hajime Saitou would be hard pressed to disagree with the former assassin.  However, a single incident on the road had not only caught his attention, but had also landed a literal mountain of paperwork on his desk.  Not a good way to start another day on the job.

            A traveler had come across five dead bodies in the middle of a road, about a week's travel north of Kyoto.  A quintet of Ronin had been slaughtered before they could even draw their blades.  The entire incident would have never reached Saitou's ears had two circumstances not been met.  First, the man who discovered the bodies was one of Saitou's many agents.  Second, the ground displayed a distinct path of footprint pockmarks that had been the result of strides of unbelievable power; a clear sign of someone capable of using the Shukuchi, that legendary technique which Soujiro was said to have known.

            "Look's like Soujiro's gone back to his old ways," remarked the man who stood behind Saitou.  His blond hair stood straight up, giving the appearance of the head of a broom, earning the man his nickname.  He kept one eye closed and smiled annoyingly.  His body was decked out with a number of various swords, earning him his other nickname.  Chou the Sword Hunter was a collector of many fine blades.  He was one of the first of the Juppongatana to be apprehended by the authorities, thanks to the work of Kenshin Himura.  After Shishio's defeat, Chou, like many other members of the Juppongatana had been offered a job in the government.  Quick to accept, Chou became, in effect, Saitou's assistant.

            "Ha!" scoffed Saitou, "The Battousai is more effective than you think at swaying others towards his silly non-killing ways.  Soujiro wouldn't resort to killing so easily.  Furthermore, he rarely ever killed anyone, even in self defense, if it wasn't at Shishio's order."

            "True," agreed Chou, "It's more likely that he would use the Shukuchi to make a quick getaway."

            "However," interjected Saitou, "We cannot ignore the fact that the Shukuchi was quite obviously used in this set of killings.  If Soujiro was not responsible, then someone else who knows the Shukuchi must be."

            "But who else would know that technique?" wondered Chou.

            "I don't know right now, but I will find out," stated Saitou determinedly.

            "Mr. Seta," said Ishiro, "I present to you Kojiro Shinmen, former second in command of the third squad of the Shinsengumi."

            "I am pleased to make your acquaintance," said Matahachi.

            "You did not tell me that I was to be working for an enforcer of this pathetic government," Kojiro hissed to Ishiro.  Kojiro still wore the very same garments that he had worn during his time with the Shinsengumi.  His black hair ran freely all the way down to his shoulders, restricted only by the trademark headband worn by members of the Shinsengumi.  He was of average height.  His hands were marred by the scars and calluses of one who was accustomed to wielding a sword.  The man's fingers were long and almost delicate looking, belying their substantial strength.  His mouth seemed fixed in a permanent smirk of one who viewed almost everyone else as an inferior.  It was his eyes however, that were truly the most striking feature of him; narrow, emerald green eyes that gleamed with an insatiable lust for battle and blood.  

            "I do not work as servant to the Meiji government anymore," said Seta haughtily, hearing every word Kojiro said, "They have betrayed honor for profit, defiled justice, retribution and vengeance.  It is a government of weaklings, of profit driven mongrels who would consort with the foreigners that would desecrate our sacred isles.  I serve them no more."

            "Well said," commented Kojiro, smiling slightly.

            "You will be in my employ for one purpose," said Matahachi, "To kill Soujiro Seta, my bastard cousin."

            "As you wish," said Kojiro, his smile growing.  He liked killing.

            "Now all that is left is for us to find him," finished Matahachi, "Go Ishiro."

            "Yes sir," replied Ishiro, getting to his feet and walking from the room.

            "You will wait here," Matahachi said to Kojiro, "Ishiro will find a way to bring Soujiro to us, so that we may kill him here."

            "As you wish," replied Kojiro tonelessly.

            Takezo led Soujiro up a small path leading out of the outskirts of Kyoto.  The forest was growing thick around them.  Up ahead, Soujiro could make out smoke from a fire.  Takezo led them out of the woods and into a clearing.  A small house occupied the center of the clearing.  Off to one side, a small kiln was the source of the smoke that Soujiro had noticed earlier.  Sitting in front of it on a log was a very tall man, not as tall as Mr. Fuji, but tall nonetheless.  His frame was powerfully muscular and his brown hair was tied in a long ponytail behind his head.  The man wore a white mantel over his shoulders and rested what appeared to be a short walking stick on the ground next to him.

            _This must be Seijuro Hiko,_ thought Soujiro.  This meant that the walking stick lying on the ground next to him was most likely a cunningly disguised sword and sheath, much like the one Takezo had used to conceal his own blade.

            Soujiro stopped at the edge of the clearing but Takezo continued on without halting.  His footsteps were soft, like the whisper of wind over grass.  Soujiro was certain that the man still heard Takezo coming in any case.  Takezo did not stop until he was directly behind the man.

            Then, to Soujiro's utmost shock, Takezo drew his sword and slashed across the man's back…

            …Or where his back had been.  The man vanished before the blade ever made contact.  Soujiro looked up to see the huge man coming down from a very high jump.  He touched down lightly behind Takezo.  "That's no way for an apprentice to greet his master," chided Hiko calmly, as if he were merely correcting a child's bad manners.

            Takezo seemed to ignore the comment and instead turned to face his master and gestured behind Seijuro to Soujiro.  Hiko turned around to look at the new arrival.  "And who are you?" he asked.

            "Soujiro Seta," replied Soujiro, bowing respectfully.

            Hiko's eyebrows shot up.  "Soujiro eh."

            Soujiro gulped nervously.  Apparently Mr. Hiko had heard of him.  Upon seeing Soujiro's apprehensive expression, Seijuro Hiko smirked.  "So you're the one who gave my dumb apprentice that nasty scar on his backside," he remarked.  Soujiro nodded, growing paler by the second.

            After a few intense seconds of staring into the poor boy's eyes, Hiko turned away, chuckling.  "Serves that idiot right for letting his guard down."  Soujiro very nearly fainted from surprise and relief.  Fortunately, he was able to remain conscious enough to sigh.

            "From what Kenshin told me, you're a pretty good swordsman already," said Hiko, "Why did you come here?"

            "Takezo brought me here…" said Soujiro.  He was silenced almost immediately.

            "Bah!" scoffed Hiko, "Quit blaming things on someone else.  You are the only one who brought yourself here.  Now, why did you come?"

            Soujiro sighed.  "Because I have nowhere else to go.  For a year now, I have wandered around north of here looking for my own truth in life.  When I was a boy, the only truth I knew was Mr. Shishio's.  Then, Mr. Himura showed me his truth, the truth of not killing, of using strength and the sword as a means to protect others.  Mr. Himura told me that if I wanted to find the truth, I had to go look for it myself."

            "That sounds like that idiot alright," muttered Hiko.  "So you're just like Kenshin then."

            Soujiro looked up.  "Pardon?"

            "Yes.  Just like Kenshin…and Takezo for that matter.  Both of them came to me having nowhere else to go.  Kenshin when everyone he had ever known had been killed and Takezo when he saw his family murdered by Battousai the manslayer."

            Soujiro gasped.  "So Takezo's family was killed by Mr. Himura?"

            Hiko snorted.  "Didn't I just say that you numbskull," he sighed in resignation, "Yeah, you're going to fit right in here."  Hiko walked back to his log and sat down.  He then reached down and picked up a cup and a bottle of sake that Soujiro had only just noticed.  He poured himself a cup and gulped it down without batting an eyelid.  "So you've been looking for the truth have you?"  Though Soujiro knew Hiko couldn't see him, he realized that the man probably could sense him nodding.  "And you've been wandering for a year now, trying to find it?"  Soujiro nodded again.  "And have you found it?"

            Soujiro shrugged.  Hiko sighed again.  "I'll think about taking you on as my student.  Stay for lunch."  Seijuro transferred his gaze over to Takezo.  "What are you waiting for?  Go make lunch," he ordered.  Takezo nodded and went into the house.  Soujiro was quite surprised.  Takezo obeyed Hiko's orders almost mechanically.  It reminded Soujiro of when he had been Mr. Shishio's prodigy.  Every time Mr. Shishio had given Soujiro an order, Soujiro just did it.  He didn't think on that order past what he needed to think to get it done.  After spending all that time traveling with Takezo, Soujiro had been certain that Takezo would have been more independent than that.  He had been expecting Takezo to at least glower when given that kind of instruction out of the blue.

            Seijuro Hiko apparently noticed this train of thought.  "You're thinking about what just happened," he observed.  Soujiro nodded.  To his surprise, Hiko smiled slightly.  It wasn't the same cocky smile he had displayed not much earlier.  This one made the man seem like a great sage, a font from which knowledge poured by the bucketful.  "This is a good sign," the big man mused.

            Soujiro raised an eyebrow.  Hiko continued.  "You considered why Takezo behaved the way he did when I told him to make dinner.  I'm guessing that that is very much the way you behaved when Makoto Shishio gave you an order.  Am I right?"  Soujiro nodded.  "Very good, you are beginning to consider and understand peoples' emotions and how the interaction between the emotions of two people dictates their actions.  This is central to the Hiten Mitsurugi style.  Man is a being ruled by emotion.  Fear, anger, joy, and sorrow, all dictate our actions down to the tiniest twitch of a finger.  As a student of the Hiten Mitsurugi style, you must learn how to read the emotions of others and understand how that knowledge will allow you to predict their movements.  How each person acts on their emotions will be different.  You must learn how to know an opponent better than you know yourself within the space of an instant.  Learn these things and you will learn the core of the Hiten Mitsurugi style."

            Soujiro was slightly confused.  "That's it?" he said, "Reading emotions?  That's all the Hiten Mitsurugi style is about?"

            Seijuro Hiko nodded.

            "What about all those techniques.  What about the Kuzu-Ryu-Sen and the Amakakeru-Ryu-No-Hirameki?"  Soujiro was stricken with disbelief.

            "You nitwit," said Hiko evenly, "The core of any style of swordsmanship is the driving force, the philosophy behind it.  All those fancy techniques are just for flare."

            "Really?"

            "No."  Seijuro snorted as he watched Soujiro's head almost literally spin with confusion.  "The purpose of most of the techniques of the Hiten Mitsurugi style is to complement the understanding of human emotion.  Some techniques are purely functional, providing a swordsman with certain options in certain situations.  Others take the ability to read human emotions and make that their strength.  One, and only one, takes the wielder's own emotions and uses that to determine the success or failure of that attack."

            "The Amakakeru-Ryu-No-Hirameki," whispered Soujiro.  Hiko nodded.

            Seijuro Hiko then turned to look back to the house where Takezo was preparing dinner.  "I worry about him," said the man suddenly.  Soujiro leaned closer, trying to learn more.

            "Takezo took quite well to the Hiten Mitsurugi style.  He learned it all with unbelievable ease.  Takezo has the talent, the dedication, and the skills to become one the greatest swordsmen in all history; one whose skill could surpass even Musashi Miyamoto, the Kensai."  Soujiro was dumbstruck by Hiko's prediction.

            "That is quite the grand prediction," commented Soujiro.

            "However," Hiko continued, ignoring Soujiro's comment, "I fear that Takezo's life might not exist beyond his pursuit of swordsmanship.  He was traumatized when he witnessed the murder of his family at the hands of Hitokiri Battousai and was rendered mute as a result.  Swordsmanship is the only thing that gives him a purpose in life.  It is his life.  I fear that when I am gone, Takezo will be forever lost."

            "Perhaps if Takezo were to meet Mr. Himura, they might be able to reconcile the past and help Takezo to begin a real life," suggested Soujiro.  He knew from personal experience that Mr. Himura had the strange ability of helping people sort out their troubled emotions enough so that they could help themselves.

            "Perhaps," muttered Hiko, nodding, "But that will have to wait.  For now I have another task that will take up my time."  He looked at Soujiro.  "Are you willing to make the commitment to learn the Hiten Mitsurugi style?"

            Soujiro thought about it for the moment.  "If I spend time learning your style, I would have to put my search for my own truth on hold for a while."

            Seijuro Hiko snorted in derision.  "Search for truth," he muttered, "Are you a swordsman or a philosopher?" he snapped, glaring at Soujiro.

            "Swordsman," replied Soujiro without hesitation.

            "Then leave the truth seeking to those who make a living out of it," growled Hiko, "And focus on that which only has application to your understanding of the way of the sword."

            "Is not knowing one's truth a part of that?" inquired Soujiro.

            Hiko raised an eyebrow.  "Is it?" he asked, turning the question back on Soujiro.

            "Every man needs a truth to guide how he lives his life," said Soujiro.

            "A truth?" said Hiko, "As in only one?"

            Soujiro blinked, taken aback by question.  "Why…yes."

            "And why is that!?" demanded Hiko.

            "If a person has too many truths, he would get confused as to which ones to follow," answered Soujiro.

            "So you would only recognize one truth.  What does that make all the others?  Lies?"

            Soujiro was baffled by the turn this discussion had taken.  "Well…I don't know…I guess so."

            Another snort escaped Seijuro Hiko.  "You guess so," he said in a mocking tone.  "I take it back.  You aren't as dumb as Kenshin, you're even dumber."

            Soujiro merely blinked.

            Hiko continued.  "There is no such thing as 'the truth' boy.  The world is full of truths.  The sky is blue; that is truth.  Things fall down, not up; that is a truth too.  There is no absolute truth because all things may contain a measure of truth at least.  So what then is this preoccupation with finding 'the truth'?"

            Soujiro scratched his head.  "It is the purpose for which one lives Mr. Hiko.  It guides how he conducts himself throughout his life and how he acts in any situation."

            "You are correct," said Hiko, making Soujiro's jaw drop, "A truth is helpful in determining how a person acts in his life.  But what makes you think that you have to go traipsing far and wide across all of Japan to find it?"

            "I figured that since it seemed to work for Mr. Himura, it might help me to find my truth," said Soujiro.  Truly, Seijuro Hiko XIII was a very perplexing man.

            "If there's one thing you shouldn't do," said Hiko, "You shouldn't be following the example of my dumb apprentice."

            "How can you say that?" demanded Soujiro.

            "Kenshin knew what his truth was since the very day he took up that ridiculous backwards sword of his.  Wandering through Japan was just his way of doing penance for all the lives he took during the revolution," said Hiko, unfazed, "If you're going to look for the truth, scampering across the continent, too poor and too preoccupied as to where your next meal is coming from, where you're going to bed down for the night, is not the way to go about it."

            "Then how else will I find my truth?" wondered Soujiro.

            "Sit down and think about it you numbskull," thundered Hiko, "If you plopped yourself down and gave about half a day's thought once a week or so, you should be able to figure out a truth that works for you in a couple, three months."

            "I suppose," said Soujiro, slightly confused.

            "Good, now back to the question at hand.  Are you going to learn my style or not?"  The scowl Hiko wore dared Soujiro to get off topic again.

            Soujiro could only stare blankly at the perplexing man.  He wasn't sure he had an answer yet.

            Takezo exited the house, balancing trays holding their midday meal.  Soujiro went up and helped him.  As he came back, Seijuro Hiko simply helped himself to another cup of sake.  "Spend the night and consider this," was all he said.

            They ate in silence.  Afterwards, Soujiro walked off a short ways from the house.  In a clearing not far away, he lay down and gazed up the sky, and pondered the decision that he had to make.

            Day turned into night.  Soujiro finally got up and went into the house.  He was surprised to find that Takezo had prepared a futon for him.  Soujiro lay down and dozed off rather quickly.

            If there was one thing this particular man was proud of, it was his strength.  Of course, that went for a lot of people.  But like most of the others, this man believed he was stronger than all the rest, particularly when he was drunk, which he was quite often.  The man liked to visit the sake bar quite regularly.  As a result, he built up a considerable tab in most of the local sake bars.  This was a new one however, and he was starting with a clean sleight.  Thus, the man was more than happy when he made himself a friend.

            The stranger had come into the bar and sat down next to him.  This much smaller, unassuming man had slapped a few yen onto the countered and ordered a round of drinks for both him and the strong man.  Despite the fact that he had no knowledge of this stranger, the man wasn't one to turn down a free drink and gladly obliged.  The stranger was happy to order the self proclaimed strong man drink after drink after, while drinking at a much more sedate pace himself.  He was dressed in dark clothing and wearing a wide, basket hat over his head, tilted at an angle that made it difficult for anyone to see his eyes.  Nobody paid him any mind, except those he chose to show himself to.

            "Damn," hissed Ishiro.  After delivering his charge to Matahachi Seta, he had gone out to find something, anything on the location of Soujiro.  However, the young swordsman was nowhere to be found.  That was the problem with Kyoto.  It was big city, with plenty of places to hide.  As he was walking, the man passed a sake shop.  At this late an hour, the only patrons still there were likely to be getting themselves very drunk.  Ishiro didn't care.  He didn't partake in alcohol.  As a swordsman, it was his duty to always be in a state of readiness.  Anything like sake, that dulled that edge, could not be allowed in his regimen.  The man didn't give the bar a second thought as he walked past.

            "Do you see that guy," muttered the stranger.  His voice was slurred, probably from the multiple drinks he had consumed that night.

            "Yeah," rumbled the much larger man.  His speech was almost in coherent from the amount of sake he had downed.

            "That guy looks pretty tough," said the stranger, "I bet you another round of drinks you can't take 'im.  The man's tone was quite persuasive.

            "Yer on," growled the strong man, pleased at the prospect of getting yet another round of drinks.  The man clumsily pushed himself away from the bar and walked out into the street behind Ishiro.  "Hey tough guy," he shouted, his voice still heavily slurred from the effects of the alcohol.

            Ishiro turned and regarded the man carefully.  As he did so, his grip tightened on the staff he carried.  _Another piece of drunken gutter trash,_ he thought idly.  His swordsman's senses weren't alerted in the slightest bit by this man's presence.  However, Ishiro soon felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, a clear sign that there was more to this scene than what met the eye.  He found his gaze drawn to the second man, still seated at the bar, watching the two of them with a gaze that showed that he was anything but drunk.  This man, Ishiro observed, was obviously the more dangerous of the two and bore watching.

            "What is it that you want?" asked Ishiro, not bothering to keep condescension from his voice.  The bulky man that stood before him was obviously no match for Ishiro.

            "You act all tough," growled the drunken man, "But I bet that I could knock you of 'o yer high horse in short order."  Even from ten feet away, Ishiro could smell the alcohol on the man's breath, more so than the usual late night patron.  It seemed likely to him at that moment, that someone had taken great pains to get this man drunk.

            "Oh," replied Ishiro, raising an eyebrow.

            "I'll show you tough," yelled the man.  He lurched forward, swinging around with his right hand.  Ishiro sidestepped the clumsy attack.  His left foot tripped the still moving brute, while he delivered a stinging slap to the man's backside with his staff.  The oaf fell face-first to the ground.  With a groan, he got to his feet and turned around to face Ishiro.  Ishiro smiled disdainfully.

            The fool came up swinging, trying to clobber Ishiro with an uppercut.  Stepping back slightly, Ishiro dodged the attack with the greatest of ease.  The man loomed over him, only to get Ishiro's staff in the stomach.  As he doubled over, Ishiro leapt back a ways and waited for him to recover.  While he did so, Ishiro threw a glance in the direction of the more sinister seeming man watching from the bar.  The stranger was still there, watching Ishiro's every move with a keen gaze.  A wordless roar drew Ishiro's attention back to the drunkard.  The man was once again lumbering towards him with every intent of crushing Ishiro with his sheer size and weight.  Ishiro waited until the man was almost upon him, before pulling the head of his staff, revealing the sword hidden within.  Then, Ishiro sidestepped once again and lashed the man on the back with the edge of his blade, just deep enough to draw a considerable amount of blood, but not enough to kill him.

            The drunkard turned around.  It wasn't until after he saw the blood-stained blade, that the pain reached the man's sluggish mind.  It took him even longer to realize that the blood decorating that sword was his own.  "Forget it," he grumbled loudly, "I aint fighting no stinking swordsman."  He turned tail and made an ungainly attempt at running away.  However, Ishiro had no intent of letting the fool get away alive without paying for his impudence.  Ishiro tapped his foot lightly on the ground once and in the next instant, he vanished from sight.  A loud pounding reached the ears of the many witnesses and the doomed man.  Spurts of dust arose from potholes that just seemed to appear on the ground.  Ishiro overtook the running man in the space of a heartbeat.  Without even slowing down, he made a right-angle turn and crossed in front of his victim's path, coming from the left.  His slash cut a neat line across the oaf's throat.  He was on the other side before blood spurted from the man's throat.  A second later, the man fell face-first onto the ground, dead.

            With a flick of his blade, Ishiro flung the blood off.  He sheathed his sword and looked over at the bar.  The strange man who had been watching had vanished without a single trace.  Ishiro's eyes narrowed.  He had the feeling that there was more to this fight than simple inebriation.

            "Is that so?" inquired Saitou, folding his hands together, and resting his chin on them.

            "It was the Shukuchi," replied his spy, "I'm certain.  It was just as you described it.  The swordsman vanished; there was the sound of footsteps in a rapid tempo, accompanied by deep, pothole footprints.  He was able to change direction quickly and easily, despite his great speed.  Everything matched."

            "So I was right," mused Saitou, "Someone else does know the Shukuchi.  It appears that our friend might be the one responsible for the killings on the road earlier."

            "There is more to it than that," added the spy.  "While I was shadowing him, I observed this Ishiro enter a mansion that had recently been bought by a man named Matahachi Seta."

            "Hmm," Saitou lifted an eyebrow, "Seta eh?"

            "You know him?" inquired the spy carefully, knowing full well that questioning Saitou too much could lead to some very painful consequences.

            "A passing acquaintance," replied Saitou, "A man whose skill with a sword is perhaps his one strength, even if overall intelligence isn't."

            "I did some digging and it appears that Matahachi Seta has had extensive dealings in the underworld," added the spy.

            "Of course," said Saitou.

            "And one more thing," interjected the man.

            Saitou merely looked at him and waited for him to continue.

            "The last time he visited Seta's place, he was accompanied by a man named Kojiro Shinmen."

            Saitou's smile widened.  "That is interesting."

            "You know this man?" asked the spy.  He was silenced by the look that Saitou gave him, a look that told the spy that he was prying too deeply into the matter.

            "Step up the search for Soujiro Seta," ordered Saitou, "I want him found as soon as possible.  Also, keep an eye on Matahachi Seta and his associates and keep me informed of their activities."  He got up from his seat and walked over to the window that looked out over the train station.  "You are dismissed," he said finally.

            The spy scurried out as quickly as he could.  _So,_ he thought, _My__ wayward apprentice has finally come back.  And it appears that he has forgotten our code._

            "My dear Kojiro," he muttered with wry smile, "You are Aku now."

            When Soujiro awoke, he sat up and looked around the room.  The surroundings, which seemed unfamiliar at first slowly came back to his rapidly clearing head.  He was in the house of Seijuro Hiko XIII, master of the Hiten Mitsurugi style, teacher of Kenshin Himura.  And Soujiro was now Hiko's most likely candidate for an apprentice.

            What would be his answer to the inevitable question that Hiko would probably pose first thing?  Finally, the swordsman made his decision and went to see about breakfast.

            Takezo was already cooking.  As with the lunch and dinner that he had done the previous day, the fare was simple and easily made.  It was clear that Takezo was used to cooking for himself and Hiko, and knew how not to cook food.  That was enough for Soujiro, who didn't really care all that much for elaborate meals.  Whenever he had been on a mission for Mr. Shishio, he had always taken as much money with him as he wanted.  Despite that, he rarely ever spent it all, or even most of it.  In order to keep a low profile, the Tenken had always taken relatively cheap rooms in the inns he passed along the way and eaten simple.  It helped keep him out of sight.

            Seijuro Hiko's huge frame filled the doorway as he came into the room.  He stopped and looked briefly at Soujiro before setting himself down across the table from him.  Takezo promptly brought out a cup and a jug of sake for the man before seating himself at the table.  They ate in silence, Hiko downing two cups of sake before even touching his food.

            As he ate, Soujiro looked expectantly at Hiko, waiting for him to ask the question that Soujiro now had an answer to.  However, the question never came.  Seijuro Hiko said not a single word as the meal passed.  And of course Takezo was his usual quiet self, which was of no help to Soujiro.

            Finally, Hiko looked up and glared at Soujiro.  "If you've got something to say, you'd better say it and stop wasting daylight."

            It finally dawned on Soujiro.  Hiko wasn't going to ask him anything.  If Soujiro wanted to take up Seijuro Hiko's offer of apprenticeship, he would have to take the initiative.

            "Mr. Hiko," said Soujiro, "After thinking the matter over, I have decided to accept your offer to become a student of the Hiten Mitsurugi style."

            "Took you long enough," growled Hiko sourly before turning his attention back to his food and his sake.

            Once they had finished the meal, Seijuro Hiko took Soujiro out into the front yard.  Takezo had loaned Soujiro his reverse-blade sword for the duration of the lesson.  "Training begins right now," he said, "If you want to learn the Hiten Mitsurugi style, you had better not waste any time.  So let's get to work."

            Soujiro nodded and tied off the open ends of his hakama.  At full speed, even the light folds of loose cloth of untied hakama could interfere a great deal with his legwork, making everything much more difficult for him.  Normally, when preparing to go into pitched battle, Soujiro wore a set of armguards and leg guards.

            The leg guards were also important to his use of the Shukuchi.  The Shukuchi was capable of breaking apart earth, wood, and whatever other materials Soujiro might run across.  This kicked up quite a bit of debris and, especially when encountering a fast object, such as a Shukuchiing leg, could cut through even the coarse, tough material of Soujiro's hakama and the much softer cloth of his socks and could open some nasty wounds on his legs.  To prevent this, the leg guards were worn.

            The armguards served a completely different purpose; actually, more than one.  The leg guards had been a given when Soujiro had first learned the Shukuchi.  It wasn't until later, after his first sparing match with Mr. Shishio using the Shukuchi that he learned of how necessary they could be.  First, the armguards were able to help dampen the jarring impacts of two blades colliding at incredible speeds.  The second and final reason was the cause of his deciding to use armguards in the first place and the direct result of his duel with Mr. Shishio.

            They had already exchanged several blows.  Neither fighter had yet managed to connect with a serious hit.  However, when Soujiro had come in for another attack, Mr. Shishio had angled his defense slightly, so that Soujiro's sword, instead of being stopped and thrown off by the blade, was made to scrape upon its edge.  This set alight the oils in the teeth of Mr. Shishio's Mugengen.  As Soujiro had passed by, the left sleeve caught fire, forcing him to stop and put it out.  He had done so easily, swinging his sword carefully over his arm so that the speed of his slash moved the air and blew the flames out.  Then, Soujiro had looked up, only to find the Mugengen scratching the very tip of his nose.

            From then on, Soujiro had worn armguards to prevent a similar situation from occurring whenever he sparred with Mr. Shishio.  They would protect his arms from the flames long enough for Soujiro to find a better opportunity to put them out.  Over time, he found out that he was much more effective with them than without them and so continued to wear them whenever he went into battle.

            When Soujiro began his time as a wanderer, he had disposed of both sets of guards within a week.  They were of no use to him as he hadn't intended to do any fighting during the next ten years he planned to wander.  Now, Soujiro regretted that decision slightly.

            "Let's begin," said Seijuro Hiko.  He drew his sword and came into a stance with his left leg leading.  He held the handle just under the guard with his right hand, pointing the sword forward at a slight angle towards the left so that it came across his body.  Finally, Hiko lifted the pommel with his left hand, tilting the sword at a downward angle so that it covered most of his torso, a superb defensive stance that would allow him to react quickly and launch a counterattack with great ease.

            Soujiro knew right away that he couldn't hold back against Seijuro Hiko.  However, he couldn't go into battle without first gauging his opponent's abilities.  Gauging strength was not one of Soujiro's best skills though.  His usual strategy was to approach an opponent discreetly, use the Shukuchi to get in close and strike before his enemy even realized what was happening.  However, that depended on his opponent being unaware of him in the first place.  Also, should he not have been able to sneak up on his foe, Soujiro still depended on the sheer speed of the Shukuchi to get in before his opponent could react.

            Of course, in a sparring match, stealth was not an option.  Furthermore, Seijuro Hiko didn't look like the kind of man that would be easily surprised.  The Shukuchi might or might not work, depending on whether or not Soujiro could summon its use suddenly.  Undoubtedly, Mr. Himura had told Hiko about the Shukuchi, and so he would not be caught off guard so easily by the technique.  _Still,_ thought Soujiro, _The__ Shukuchi is much faster than the Hiten Mitsurugi's godlike speed.  So even if he knows what's coming, Mr. Hiko will have trouble reacting in time to defend himself._

            Soujiro stepped forward with his left foot, holding his right hand an inch from the handle of the sword loaned to him by Takezo.  _I'll save the Shukuchi for later,_ he thought.  Soujiro's form blurred as he rushed at Hiko, drawing the sword in his second favorite Battoujutsu technique after the Shuntensatsu.  As he drew, Soujiro realized the slight mistake he had made.

            He had miscalculated the difference between a real sword and a reverse-blade sword.  The Battoujutsu worked on the principle that the sheath would protect the sword from air resistance, so that only the handle and guard would encounter it when the sword was drawn, which allowed the blade to reach a much higher speed than normal.  Furthermore, the graceful curve of a katana allowed the sword to almost flow from its sheath, further increasing the speed at which the blade could be drawn.  This meant that the sword would have an incredible amount of momentum when it went into the slash, ensuring that it couldn't be slowed by air resistance until its momentum was spent.

            However, the reverse-blade sword's leading edge was blunt and flat, creating a wider surface area that added drag to the blade when it cleared the sheath, slowing it down by a slight fraction.  When Soujiro had used the Battoujutsu against those thugs on the road, the slowing of the blade had been so slight that it made no difference against such weak opponents.

            But against Seijuro Hiko, that delay was more than enough.  Hiko's sword came down and caught Soujiro's slash head on.  Then, not stopping he rolled his blade under Soujiro's and used his left hand to lever both swords upward so that Soujiro's blade went high and missed.

            Soujiro used the power of his swing to help throw his body to the side so that he could avoid any counterattacks.  Once he was away, he believed that he better understood the kind of swordsman that Seijuro Hiko was.  He tended to fight defensively and let his opponents wear themselves out against him.  Soujiro now understood that he needed to lure his opponent into attacking.

            It was now Soujiro's turn to take a defensive stance.  Hiko had not moved since fending off Soujiro's opening attack except to position his sword to intercept another strike should it come.  For what seemed like a great deal of time, the two of them stood still, observing one another with the greatest intensity.  Soujiro was reluctant to go on the attack again, knowing how powerful Hiko was.  But he couldn't wait forever.

            Slowly, Soujiro began to tap his back foot on the ground.  Gradually, his tempo increased as he prepared to launch himself into his attack.  He would start three steps short to test how quickly Hiko could react to such a swift technique as the Shukuchi.  Finally, Soujiro kicked off the ground and vanished in a spray of dirt and gravel.

            As he approached, Soujiro took full advantage of the Shukuchi's maneuverability, changing direction, zigzagging and circling around, trying his very best to confuse his opponent as to his position and the direction of his movement.  If Hiko couldn't discover which direction Soujiro would attack from, then he would be helpless against the Shukuchi.

            Hiko's eyes were no longer open.  Soujiro smiled.  _So he's recognized the futility of trying to see me,_ he thought.  Seijuro Hiko's expression remained calm though, as Soujiro continued to move around him at unbelievable speed.  Finally, Soujiro believed he had spotted an opening.  A feeling of elation filled him and he rushed forward to attack from Hiko's left flank.

            Metal rang against metal as swords met.  Soujiro stifled a gasp of surprise and leapt back.  No sooner had his feet touched the ground than he was moving again, still using three step speed.  While he once again dashed around and about his enemy, he pondered what had just happened.  Soujiro realized almost instantly that Hiko hadn't reacted to attack.  His sword had been in position even before Soujiro had begun to move in for the strike.

            Soujiro came in at what looked like Hiko's unguarded side again.  However, this time he came in at an angle.  Once again, Hiko's sword was already there, waiting for his blow.  Soujiro continued his run past and turned around and attacked again almost immediately, this time on the opposite side.  Yet again, Hiko's blade caught his in a flawless parry.

            Soujiro went into a flurry of attacks, seeming to attack from all directions at once, striking once with his sword and moving into position for another attack.  No matter what he did, Seijuro's sword was always there, an impenetrable barrier between Soujiro and his target.

            Soujiro decided it was time to try an alternate strategy and retreated back to his circling.  He switched directions frequently and randomly to keep Hiko confused.  Though, Soujiro could have sworn that he saw Hiko smile as he raised his blade above his head.

            "Hiten Mitsurugi style," Hiko intoned, "Do-Ryu-Sen!"  He flipped the blade over and slammed the ground with the blunt side.  The earth at his feet seemed to tear itself apart, flinging rocks and dust in the direction of his swing and breaking apart the ground in a straight path in front of the swordsman.  Soujiro yelped when he saw that it had been perfectly timed.  He would hit the broken ground just as it formed, which could cause serious problems if continued at his current speed.  Seeing no other alternative, Soujiro jumped.

            Boosted by the Shukuchi, he took to the air with great ease, jumping high enough to easily escape the technique's affects.  Then, when Soujiro looked down; his eyes widened.  Hiko was gone.

            "Hiten Mitsurugi Style," Soujiro heard the firm voice from above him, "Ryu-Tsui-Sen!"  Soujiro shifted his weight madly, knowing what was about to come.  He had to get into position to intercept Hiko's strike, or he would be dead.

            It was too little too late.  He had just barely managed to shift his weight so that he was facing in the direction of the voice, when Seijuro Hiko's sword flashed downwards.  To Soujiro's unending surprise, the attack missed.  Hiko fell past and dropped to the ground.  Soujiro did so as well, landing rather clumsily.

            Hiko chuckled as he rested the back of his sword against his right shoulder.  Soujiro was still stunned that Hiko had missed even though his target had been completely open.  "How could you miss?" asked Soujiro.

            Hiko raised an eyebrow.  "Did I?" he inquired rather calmly.  It was then that Soujiro looked down and noticed the perfect cut that Hiko had made.  The cut had sliced open his western shirt that he wore under his kimono, cutting off all the buttons, as well as cutting through the bottom of his kimono, ending right at the edge of his obi.  Not a single drop of blood was to be found along the line of the strike.  Hiko's cut had been so perfect that it had neatly sliced Soujiro's clothes without ever touching his skin.

            Hiko didn't stop there.  He lowered his sword in a straight line and rushed Soujiro with tremendous speed.  Soujiro quickly put his sword in the best defensive position he knew.  How could anyone so large move so fast?  _Then again,_ he thought, _Mr. Senkaku could move pretty fast too._

            "Hiten Mitsurugi Style: Kuzu-Ryu-Sen."  Soujiro smirked when he heard this.  He had seen Mr. Himura use this technique before and he had been able to dodge it with ease.  While he did have to admit that the nine-hit combo of the Kuzu-Ryu-Sen was fast, it was no match for the speed of the Shukuchi.

            And thus, Soujiro's surprise was all the greater when he saw what happened next.  When he had fought Mr. Himura, Himura's Kuzu-Ryu-Sen had been nine strikes in rapid succession, leaving phantasmal images of the sword where it passed.  The speed of the attack was beyond belief.  But Soujiro could see the opening and had more than enough speed to slip through due to the tiniest delay between the strikes.  However, Hiko's use of the technique was much different.  Soujiro swore that he could actually see Seijuro Hiko's sword become nine separate swords, all of them converging on him.  It was a wall of steel, leaving him no room on any side, nor above or below, to escape.  He was trapped.

            Then, Hiko was past.  He skidded to a stop behind Soujiro, who was stunned speechless.  After a moment, Soujiro finally noticed all nine of the perfect nicks, all barely drawing blood on each of the technique's target points.  Had Hiko wanted too, he could have slain Soujiro in an instant.  _So this is the true strength of the real master of the Hiten Mitsurugi Style,_ he thought in awe as he turned to regard Seijuro Hiko.

            After chuckling at the look of disbelief on Soujiro's face, Hiko once again lowered his sword into position.  "Well," he said, "Shall we continue?"

            Meanwhile, Takezo was busy taking inventory of the pantry.  When he was finished, he looked at the list he had made of the things that needed to be restocked.  There were some herbs and spices that they were running low on, an extra bag of rice would be nice to have on hand, and of course the sake reserve needed to be replenished.  To be honest, Takezo was surprised that Seijuro Hiko's liver hadn't failed him years ago.

            Takezo went into his former master's room and rummaged around until he found Seijuro Hiko's wallet.  That man never carried money with him unless he was going into town to get something, an errand he always delegated to his apprentice whenever he had one around.  Takezo took up the wallet and extracted from it the money he would need for the groceries.  Without a second thought, he went down the well known path to get what he needed.

            On the way in, the mute stopped and looked in on the shop belonging to the old carpenter who had taught him in his younger days.  The old man had taken himself a real apprentice a couple of years ago and now mostly directed from a nice, comfortable chair in the back of the shop.  A position he had more than earned in his many years of work.  Glad to see that everything was going well, Takezo went off to complete his task.

            Many of the shopkeepers he visited were familiar with him and his inability to speak.  The nice man who sold him the sake knew full well where all that alcohol went, having catered to Seijuro Hiko for many years even before the man had taken on his first apprentice.

            It was close to noon when Takezo returned with the groceries.  As soon as he got back, he immediately began to prepare the midday meal.  Once again, nothing spectacular, but good enough to eat.  The other two occupants of the home returned from Soujiro's first lesson.  When he saw them, Takezo smiled.  Seijuro Hiko looked as fresh as he had when he finished breakfast.  Soujiro was another matter entirely.  The poor young man was breathing rather heavily.  His body was covered in sweat, which had completely soaked the garments he wore.  And while Takezo couldn't see through the folds of Soujiro's light blue gi, he was willing to bet that there were a considerable number of bruises.  A single long cut in his clothing ran down Soujiro's torso.  The palms of Soujiro's hands were covered in abrasions.  Takezo had suffered from the same problem several times over the course of his years training with Master Hiko.  The strength in both the man's attacks and parries was enough to jar the blade so that one could feel it in the handle, making the handle vibrate and the wrappings rub against the skin of the palm.  After an intense session of sparring, Takezo had always emerged with his hands rubbed raw from the incredible impacts.

            During the meal, Soujiro handled his utensils quite delicately, trying to keep from aggravating the already painful condition of his hands.  Never in all the years that he had learned swordsmanship, had he ever been pushed to such extremes.  Even when he had sparred with Mr. Shishio, he had never been forced to endure such fierce exchanges of blows in a simple sparring session.  When they had begun their training, Hiko wanted a match to test Soujiro's limits.  And that was exactly what he did.

            "What are my limits Mr. Hiko?" asked Soujiro, smiling slightly and trying to make polite conversation, and also attempting to understand the turn his training was about to take.

            "First off," growled Seijuro Hiko, not even looking up from his cup of sake, "If you're going to be training under me you had better refer to me as Sensei, you numbskull."

            "I guess that makes sense Mr. Hiko," said Soujiro, smiling even more widely.

            Hiko drained his cup of sake and with a flip of his wrist sent the cup sailing into Soujiro's forehead, bringing a surprised yelp from the boy as he fell over backwards, more out of reflex than from any actual power that was in Hiko's throw, which was pretty strong nonetheless, seeing as he had only used his wrist.  The cup bounced away, directly into Takezo's outstretched palm.  In a single smooth movement, he returned the cup to Hiko, who poured himself another draught of sake.  As he did so, he spoke in a scolding tone.  "If you're going to joke around like that, you're going to regret ever becoming my apprentice."  He lifted the full cup to his lips and drank it down, looking up at Soujiro as he did so.  When he did, Hiko nearly choked and fell over.  The wide eyed, open mouthed stare Soujiro was giving him was almost identical to the one Kenshin used whenever he didn't understand something his master did.  _It's too close for comfort,_ thought Seijuro Hiko irritably.

            Soujiro blinked a couple of times and returned to his normal, slightly smiling self.  "Anyway, about my limits Sensei?" continued Soujiro.

            "Well, you're certainly fast enough," said Hiko, "With that Shukuchi thing of yours; you won't have any trouble where speed is concerned, so I think we can skip that part of the training.  However, I noticed that you lack when it comes to leaping."

            "Leaping?"  Soujiro's smile disappeared as he raised his eyebrow.

            "Yeah," answered Hiko, "Many aspects of the Hiten Mitsurugi style depend on your ability to jump substantial distances.  While that is not your actual weakness, it is part of the problem.  Many opponents have techniques and/or abilities that allow them to alter the battlefield to suit their designs.  Even the Hiten Mitsurugi style has such a technique, the Do-Ryu-Sen.  The best way to defeat these techniques is to circumvent the problem they pose by flying over the battlefield."

            "I can certainly jump high and far enough to do that," said Soujiro.

            "However, there is more to your problem to that.  Your opponent will also know that this is the best way to circumvent a ground-shaping technique and anticipate your jump.  You have to be able to maneuver yourself, contort your body, and even change the direction of your flight, and still land on the ground so that you are in a position to take to the air once again immediately afterward."

            "Oh," was all that Soujiro could say.  Thanks to the powerful legwork that was required to perform techniques like his Shukuchi, Soujiro had more than enough leg strength to perform jumps of great length and height.  However, what Seijuro Hiko said was true.  Since his original style had been ground based (after all, the Shukuchi doesn't work very well in midair), he had little practice with airborne maneuvering.

            "Is that all?" he asked.

            "No," answered Hiko, "Your sword work is also a bit sloppy.  You're too used to using that Shukuchi technique of yours to get in and strike an opponent before he has a chance to defend himself.  As a result, the majority of your actual sword techniques are rather basic and pretty poorly executed at that.  About the only thing sword wise you can claim to be really good at is your Battoujutsu."

            "How is my Battoujutsu?" Soujiro wanted to know.

            "Let's just say you'll never match mine," replied Hiko loftily.  That wasn't entirely true.  In retrospect, Seijuro Hiko had been rather surprised to see just how swift and powerful the Battoujutsu of the Tenken was.  It had exceeded all his expectations, both low and high, surpassing even Kenshin's sword-drawing technique.  And Kenshin was the man who earned his name, the Battousai, from his skill with the Battoujutsu technique.  However, Hiko wasn't about to let his new trainee know that.  Like most teachers, Hiko believed that a certain feeling of inadequacy helped to motivate a student to apply himself more to his studies.  The method worked well, so long as that feeling wasn't overwhelming for the student.  It was a fine balance, the kind that Hiko had mastered long ago.

            Soujiro pouted.  If there was one thing he had ever been proud of besides his Shukuchi, it had been his skill with the Battoujutsu.  After all, not many people could claim to have broken the Battousai's sword clean in two.  However, he understood that it probably was no match for Hiko, the man who had taught Mr. Himura.  The difference between master and apprentice was always rather great.  Soujiro resolved himself to think about it later and resumed eating.

            After the meal was concluded, Seijuro Hiko dragged Soujiro back outside.  This time though, they went farther than the training yard.  The big man led Soujiro through the forest surrounding his home until the came to a ledge overlooking a waterfall.  "It is here," said Seijuro Hiko, "That your real training begins."

            The sun was setting by the time that they returned to the house.  Soujiro was in an even sorrier state than when he had come back for lunch.  Takezo winced in sympathy.  His friend could barely stand.  While the food was still cooking, Takezo took out a role of bandages and an almost empty jar of ointment, Takezo made a mental note to restock in the morning.  While Hiko seated himself in his favorite spot in front of the now unlit kiln, Takezo took Soujiro back into the house.

            Keeping one eye on dinner, Takezo took Soujiro's right hand.  He hissed softly when he saw up close the damage the hand had suffered.  The palm was covered in blisters and some parts were bleeding openly.  Gently, he began to rub the ointment into Soujiro's sore palms.  He looked up and saw his friend's eyes close as the pain faded from his left hand.  After he had finished with the ointment, Takezo took the bandages and wrapped Soujiro's right hand.  Takezo then gave the other hand the same treatment.  When he was done, Soujiro looked gratefully at him.

            "Thanks Takezo," said Soujiro softly.  Takezo nodded and smiled, knowing full well how painful his first bouts with Hiko had been.

            That said and done, Soujiro began to aid Takezo in preparing dinner.  By the time the sun had dipped below the horizon they had finished a sizeable spread.  Like every other meal, dinner was a quiet affair.  Seijuro Hiko rarely said anything, Takezo, of course, said nothing at all and Soujiro was too tired to be very talkative.  After dinner, Soujiro went straight to his room where he fell asleep almost immediately.  As he watched, Takezo let a small smile appear on his face.  Even if there was one extra, it was just like old times.

            Later that night, Takezo was awakened by strange sounds coming from the room next to his, Soujiro's room.  It sounded like someone alternating between whimpering in fear and sobbing with grief.  Quietly, so as not to disturb his master, Takezo got up and slid open the door to his room.  He crept down the hallway to Soujiro's door and slid it open a crack so that he could look inside.

            Soujiro, still clad in his training clothes lay on his futon.  He was curled in a fetal position.  His hands were clasped to the sides of his head, the tips of his fingers interlacing with one another in the back.  It looked like he was trying to cover his ears and shield the back of his skull at the same time.  As Takezo watched, Soujiro's body trembled violently.  A wretched sob escaped his lips, followed by a slight whimper.  Most disturbing of all was that those lips, from which the anguished cries came, were turned up in a bright smile that belied the young man's obvious suffering.  At some point he had kicked off his blanket, leaving him exposed in the chilly night.

            Takezo was baffled as to the cause of Soujiro's condition.  However, he couldn't stand by and watch as his friend suffered so.  Gently, Takezo picked up the blanket that Soujiro had kicked off in his earlier struggles and pulled it over the young man's curled body.  As he settled it around Soujiro's shoulders, the boy's muscles loosened slightly and he began to unfold back under the blanket.  Then, Takezo brushed back the bangs of Soujiro's hair and gently ran his fingers across his cheeks, vaguely remembering them as actions his own mother had done to soothe him during troubled nights.

            Soujiro's whimpering became softer and finally disappeared altogether.  The smile on his face disappeared, leaving a look of complete tranquility.  Once he was sure that Soujiro was sleeping better, Takezo left and returned to his own room, not noticing that his friend's eyes had opened slightly.

            Soujiro's gaze lazily flickered over to the door that Takezo had just exited through.  As his eyes closed again, he realized just how lucky he was to have such a good friend.

Author Extra: Who is Musashi Miyamoto?  Well, actually, it's Miyamoto Musashi if you say it in the traditional Japanese fashion (with last or family name being said before the individual's name).  I simply decided that since the official dub of Rurouni Kenshin was switching the names around, I'd follow suit.  It helps make things less confusing, as long as you stay consistent.  Well, anyway, back to the subject at hand.  Musashi is considered one of, if not _the_ greatest samurai in Japanese history.  He lived during the early years of the Tokagawa regime.  His surname, Miyamoto, is the name of the province where he came from.

            The legend of Musashi began immediately after the battle of Sekigahara in which the forces of Tokugawa Ieyasu, the last of Japan's three great unifiers, won control of the country.  Back then, Musashi was living under his original name, Shinmen Takezo (now you know where I got those names from.  In fact, a great majority of my names came from the book, more on that later).  Takezo was a survivor from the losing army.  He managed to flee back to his home village where he hid as a fugitive for quite a while.  The rest is details that can be found in the pseudo-biography of Musashi that was written by Eiji Yoshikawa, a translated version of which can probably be found in your local bookstore and easily on Amazon.  I get most of the Japanese names I use in this fic from the book.  I call this book a pseudo-biography because the author mixed a good bit of fiction in with fact (mostly to spice up Musashi's life's story).  Be warned, it is a pretty big book and is a hefty thing to read.

            Anyway, back to Musashi.  Another little fact about Musashi is that his name is a different way of reading the characters which make up his old name, Takezo.  After he took on his new name, Musashi dedicated his life to the sword and its use.  It is said that Musashi fought in as many as eighty duels and never lost a single one, thus earning him the title, Kensai (or Kinsei or any one of a myriad of other spelling for the word), or sword saint.  You could say that Musashi was the original rurouni.  He wandered all over Japan and learned his lessons more often from nature and solitary study than any particular teacher.  Musashi even went so far as to use a wooden sword in order to further test his abilities, and he was no less lethal with it.

            Besides the simple fact of his legend, Musashi is famous for two things.  The first is his unique sword style.  During his time wandering, Musashi earned the ire of a school of swordsmen.  Infuriated by the losses Musashi inflicted against several students and even the school's two masters, the men of this school made a last ditch effort to preserve their honor by challenging Musashi to a final duel, pitting the lone swordsman (who had willing forgone having any seconds) against over seventy members of the school.  In an intense battle against overwhelming odds, Musashi hit upon a new form of swordsmanship when he, acting on instinct, drew and fought with both his swords, an idea unheard of before his time.   After this, Musashi developed a new philosophy behind swordsmanship.  Since all samurai carry two swords (daisho), it seemed dishonorable to fight and die while wielding only one, to fail with a weapon yet undrawn.  Musashi began to perfect his Two Swords style through further experience.  And it is still practiced today

            Musashi also wrote a manuscript called Go Rin No Sho, or The Book of Five Rings in English.  You could say it's Japan's equivalent of the Art of War, which heavily influenced Musashi during his time.  This book on military strategy has found many applications outside the battlefield as many people see analogies between war and business.  It has thus become an important resource for many successful businessmen, Japanese or otherwise in the modern world.  Overall, Musashi is one of the most important and influential person in Japanese history.

Author's note:  Besides my piece on Musashi (above) I thought I'd take a moment to mention a few things about sheaths, or saya as they are called in Japan.  The plain wooden storage sheath, complete with a handle that complements that sheath is called a shira-saya.  It is generally an airtight container used to protect a sword's blade from wear while it is not being used or carried.  Quite obviously, many of the characters in Rurouni Kenshin, including our dear Seijuro Hiko, have found a different use for the shira-saya.  A carefully crafted shira-saya can be made to look like an ordinary staff or wooden sword until it is actually drawn.  Of course, this kind of method does has its defects.  The handle is not designed to stand up to the forces and strains of an all out battle, as Kenshin proved in his fight with Chou.  And the airtight nature of the sheath's seal makes it unsuitable for technique's like Battoujutsu, which is probably why Kenshin never used one, considering that his favorite technique is the Battoujutsu.

            Another thing, I know I overdid it a little bit with Hiko's drinking habit.  But the amount of sake Hiko consumes without showing the slightest sign of inebriation is often exaggerated as a kind of joke among RK fanfiction writers.  I just wanted to add that touch of the slightly ridiculous that makes Rurouni Kenshin such a popular show in the comedy department as well as the action genre.  That's all for now.


	4. Faces of the Past: Soujiro is Discovered

I know what you're all thinking. IT'S ABOUT FREAKING TIME! There, I said it. And now to make up for how long it took to get this up, I'm going to post three chapters all at once, so there.

Disclaimer: See Prologue

**Chapter 4: Faces of the Past: Soujiro is Discovered**

His hand reached for the handle of the carriage's door. Even as he opened it, he heard the concerned mutterings of the man within.

_"You sure worry a lot. The future of this country isn't something you should be worried about; especially since you're going to die."_ His clamped itself over the old man's mouth. A smile spread across the killer's face.

_"I have a message from Mr. Shishio. Smart guy; trying to send Himura the Battousai as an assassin was genius. But it's a futile effort because I'm going to take over this country regardless. And that's all he had to say."_ Soujiro drew his dagger as he finished his message, holding it poised to strike. With no second thought, he drove the knife straight into the old man's skull.

Soujiro snapped awake. Morning light was just beginning to filter in through the windows of his room. The young man wiped the cold sweat from his brow. Was this what it was like to be an ex-manslayer? Would he be forever tormented in his dreams by all the men he had killed, by all the lives he had taken? Soujiro sighed. It was a poor beginning to another long day.

He had been there for nearly a week. Soujiro's training was proving even more difficult than he realized. He went out every day with his new Sensei and returned at night exhausted and battered. Though he had no idea what Takezo did during the day, Soujiro was fairly sure that his friend was mostly doing chores. One time, Soujiro had noticed him preparing wood for repairing a wall. Apparently, Takezo had training as a carpenter as well.

_Sensei is a potter and Takezo is a carpenter,_ observed Soujiro, _In__ this time of peace where swords are rarely ever needed, they have found new uses for the skilled hands granted by the mastery of a sword._

That made Soujiro himself wonder what he would do when he finished learning the Hiten Mitsurugi Style. What would he do with the knowledge that he had gained? Would he simply sit around like Seijuro Hiko and wait for an apprentice to come to him? Or would Soujiro do something different with his life and try to make a difference the lives of those around him. Either way, it didn't matter. All that mattered now was finishing his training under Master Hiko.

Misao was in the kitchen preparing dinner for some the guests at the Aoiya when Okon finally got back with the day's groceries. Dusk was just beginning to fall over Kyoto. While the Aoiya was really the base for the Kyoto Oniwaban Group, it was also a full restaurant as well. It made perfect cover for the group of talented spies. As she unloaded them into the pantry, Okon made an unusual comment to Misao.

"Takezo's back," she remarked offhandedly.

"Really?" responded Misao, raising an eyebrow. Not long after the whole Shishio incident, the presence of Seijuro Hiko's second apprentice had become known to the members of the Oniwaban group. They had never told Kenshin, or anyone else for that matter, of Takezo's existence. They simply accepted it as a fact of life. Then, about a month ago, Takezo had vanished. Nobody really noticed. But as the weeks went by, the Oniwaban began to notice his absence in full; particularly by Okon, who spent a bit more time than the rest looking into the affairs of Seijuro Hiko. But they knew better than to bother Seijuro Hiko about the whereabouts of his apprentice. Now he was back again, as mysteriously as he had gone.

"Apparently he's been back for about a week now," said Okon, "I talked to some people who saw him walking in the first morning. He had company."

"Now that's interesting," commented Misao, turning away from her cooking, "What kind of company?"

"A strange young man, about the same age, with dark hair and blue eyes," replied Okon, "He sounds pretty cute if you ask me."

"Anything else?" asked Misao.

"Everybody who saw them told me that this young man had the most wonderful smile," answered Okon without hesitation. This made Misao's eyes narrow.

"Is that so?" When Okon nodded, Misao dropped what she was doing. "Get Lord Aoshi," she ordered simply, "Tell him to meet me at Seijuro Hiko's residence."

"W-Why?" asked Okon, surprised by Misao's change in attitude.

"It sounds like the Tenken's back," was her only reply as she left the kitchen. Okon followed her calling plaintively.

"You mean Soujiro Seta, the strongest of Shishio's ten swords?"

Misao turned around. "Exactly. He might be back for revenge on Kenshin by killing his teacher."

"Mr. Hiko can take care of himself I'm sure," said Okon, "There shouldn't be anything to worry about."

"That's all fine and dandy for you to say," Misao shot back, "But you didn't see him fight. I saw Soujiro break Himura's sword in two with the greatest of ease. Even Seijuro Hiko might not be able to measure up against that." She glared at Okon before turning to run up the stairs to get into her ninja outfit and get her weapons. "Tell Lord Aoshi to meet me up there and tell him to hurry."

Soujiro lay on his back, resting his head on top of his folded hands as he usually did at the end of the day. He normally chose a spot a fair distance from the rest of Hiko's house as he liked this time to himself, to think. Soujiro had been doing a lot of thinking ever since he had become Seijuro Hiko's apprentice. Ever since that first day, Soujiro had been spending time in this very spot, pondering just what he was going to do with his life when he finished his training.

The day had been hard as usual and his body ached all over. His hands, though freshly treated and dressed, still burned a little due to the nasty blisters he was receiving. It reminded Soujiro of his days under Shishio. No, this was harder than Shishio's training. Hiko pushed him harder, longer, further. Each day, he pushed Soujiro's abilities past their limits, never letting him hold back. Soujiro had to use his full strength just to survive this training.

Soujiro sighed and decided that he needed to better acclimate himself to his new way of life before he could even have the energy to think about his truth. Slowly, he let his eyes close. His breathing slowed and evened out. Soujiro fell into a sort of trance that was halfway between the world of the awake and the asleep. He could stay like that for hours before deciding to actually go to sleep. It helped him clear his mind. And he found that his dreams were less troublesome if he did this for a little while before falling asleep.

Misao Makimachi's attire wasn't particularly ordinary. Nor was it particularly modest. The less than complete coverage offered by her ninja garb was more than enough to draw the eyes of more than a few young men. However, it was one slightly older gentleman who seemed the most interested in the destination of the young ninja.

Ishiro carefully tracked Misao's progress through the crowds. Her body language told him a great deal. She walked with the determined stride of someone with a specific destination in mind. Her eyes told him the seriousness of her situation. She was dressed and armed for battle, something that piqued his interest.

Ishiro's instincts told him not to follow her too closely. The ninja was inexperienced, which meant that while she was focused on the task ahead of her, she gave no though to the idea that someone might be behind her. _Foolish,_ he thought. But nonetheless, he had to be careful, there was no way of knowing whether or not any of her compatriots were lurking nearby.

Ishiro wasn't the only one interested in the destination of Misao Makimachi. The spy had hidden himself well, disguising himself as a salesman selling various odds and ends. When Misao walked past, he took interest in her bold gait, the nature of her expression telling him everything he needed to know. He too set upon her path.

Aoshi Shinomori was amidst his daily meditation when Okon told him the news. Not bothering to hurry, Aoshi put on his tan trench coat and set out after Misao. As he left the streets around Aoiya he quickened his pace. While Aoshi was certain that the Tenken could take care of himself, he needed to stop Misao before she did something she would regret later.

Being half asleep didn't mean that Soujiro was anywhere near off guard. Despite that, he was still unaware as an unnoticed presence drew closer and closer. If there was one thing ninjas excelled at, it was how to hide their presence, even from the most alert swordsman. It was a skill that Soujiro himself had mastered, back when he had worked for Mr. Shishio. However, with the seal on his emotions finally broken after his battle with Mr. Himura, Soujiro was no longer capable of using that skill, especially when dealing with higher quality swordsman. Fortunately for him, those kinds of warriors had been in short supply ever since the Meiji era began.

Even though he knew how to perform such a feat, Soujiro was unable to detect someone else who was using a similar method. It wasn't until he heard a soft whistling noise that Soujiro realized he had been taken unawares. Fortunately, he got enough warning to react to the threat.

Soujiro's eyes snapped open and he rolled away from the spot where he lay as fast as his body would allow. A rapid tempo of thudding noises reached his ears as, in a single smooth motion; he went straight from laying down to standing. Looking at where he had been only a second ago, the young swordsman spotted several kunai protruding from the ground. More than a few had been directed at vital points like his throat. Whoever was attacking him wasn't pulling any punches.

Looking up farther, Soujiro also spotted the source of said throwing knives. A young woman, perhaps a couple of years younger than him, dressed like a ninja. She had long, black hair tied in a braid that ran down to her waist and emerald eyes. Something about her looked vaguely familiar. In fact, Soujiro was certain that he knew her from somewhere.

"So you're finally back Tenken," hissed the woman through clenched teeth. From somewhere in her sash, she pulled out another set of razor-sharp throwing knives.

_Where on Earth does she find room to keep them all?_ he wondered curiously, _It's not like she has all that much room to hide them._

Soujiro didn't have time to ponder the question any further as she launched this next set of kunai his way. Normally, the young man would have had little difficulty dodging such an attack. However, he was weary from his training earlier that day. As a result, he was much slower to react than he should have been. As he dove out of the way, one of the kunai managed to slice through his kimono and the cotton shirt beneath, grazing the skin of his left arm.

Soujiro came back to his feet, using his right hand to check the wound he had received. It was bleeding a little, but nothing compared to the things his family used to do to him. Smiling with relief, Soujiro turned to once again regard his feminine adversary. Seeing the way she fought, his mind finally clicked and went back to that fateful day in Shingetsu village.

"It's you," he said suddenly and then paused, "Uh…who are you again?" Soujiro put on as pleasant a smile as he could manage onto his face, hoping to dissuade the girl from any further violence.

But Misao Makimachi was a long way from being dissuaded by anything. The only things she could think of at the moment were the memories of slashed and hung bodies of innocent villagers. Knowing that the man in front of her wasn't directly responsible didn't help her temperament as she also knew that, at the time; he had most likely condoned such horrific actions. She remembered the way he had sliced through Kenshin's sword with his own during their duel. She remembered a great many things about Soujiro Seta and none of them good. Finally, she remembered Kenshin telling her that Soujiro had been the true assassin of Lord Okubo.

"Is there any way that we could um…talk about this?" inquired Soujiro nervously, gulping. The glare Misao shot him told the young man that she didn't believe that such recourse was possible.

_Well,_ thought Soujiro in resignation, _I tried._ He shrugged mentally and returned to his senses just in time to avoid yet another batch of kunai. _Does she ever run out of those things?_

As if in answer to his unspoken question, Misao reached behind her back with her right hand and pulled out a kodachi. Soujiro gulped nervously. If this woman was anything like Aoshi Shinomori, he was going to be in a great deal of trouble. As tired as he was, just about anything was going to be an uphill battle.

"That's enough Misao," said a firm and cold voice. Looking over the young woman's shoulder, Soujiro spotted a familiar face.

"Oh, hello Mr. Shinomori," he said as pleasantly as he could, given the circumstances. He also silently prayed that Aoshi hadn't come with the same purpose in mind that this young woman had.

"Lord Aoshi," said Misao softly, not turning away from Soujiro.

"Put your weapon away Misao," he said in a tone that could almost be described as gentle, "There is no need."

"But Lord Aoshi," protested Misao, "This is Soujiro the Tenken…" she was about to go into a list of his crimes and a description of the threat he posed when Aoshi interrupted her.

"I am well aware of that fact Misao," he said, his tone unchanging. Soujiro could not read the enigmatic man's expression at all. As he walked past Misao, Soujiro took a small amount of relief in the fact that he wasn't carrying his double kodachi weapon, a set of two kodachi in a single sheath cunningly disguised to give the appearance of a single long sword. Despite this, Soujiro didn't drop his guard, knowing that that coat Shinomori wore could be concealing any number of deadly weapons.

However, Aoshi did not make any threatening moves as he approached Soujiro at a cautious pace. Soujiro could tell that Aoshi was gauging him in the same way that Soujiro had been gauging Aoshi. The leader of the Oniwaban Group stopped directly in front of Soujiro. Then, in a move that surprised both Misao and Soujiro, gave a small bow in greeting. Though surprised, Soujiro nonetheless returned Aoshi's bow.

"Greetings Soujiro Seta," said Aoshi calmly.

"It is a pleasure to see you as well Mr. Shinomori," replied Soujiro, "I am not sure what the circumstances are, but if anything I have done truly did warrant your friend's attack, I apologize for it."

"Do not," answered Aoshi, as the man glanced back at Misao, Soujiro was surprised to hear his tone become slightly sharp, "Misao's skills may have improved, but she has yet to learn not to be so impulsive. If anything, we should be the ones apologizing."

"Thank you Mr. Shinomori," said Soujiro, "I take it that word of my presence in Kyoto has spread then."

"Not so much as you fear," replied Aoshi, interpreting correctly the implications of Soujiro's comment, "One of our members has taken a special interest in the affairs of Seijuro Hiko and became aware of your presence in Kyoto after hearing of you and Hiko's current apprentice coming into town."

"I am now Master Hiko's current apprentice," announced Soujiro cheerfully, letting out an easy smile now that he was certain that he was no longer in danger.

It was quite obviously a bombshell for Misao, who very nearly fell over in surprise at his announcement. "Y-y-you…" she stammered, "Seijuro Hiko's apprentice!"

"That is correct," answered Soujiro, smiling even more widely.

"But why would you become apprentice to the same man who taught Himura?" Misao wanted to know.

"Well," said Soujiro, "Takezo, Master Hiko's last apprentice, was sent out to look for a new apprentice so that Master Hiko could find someone to take his mantel as Master. You see, of the two pupils Master Hiko has successfully instructed, neither of them decided to take on the title of Seijuro Hiko XIV. So, he had Takezo look for a new apprentice who would finish the training and take the title."

"So, you're not here for revenge against Hiko?" questioned Misao, looking slightly dazed.

"Of course not," Soujiro said immediately, "Why would I want revenge against a man who has done me no wrong? There would be no point."

"He is the one who taught Kenshin," Misao pointed out.

"A teacher is not responsible for the actions of his students once his students have left him," countered Soujiro, "And besides, I harbor no grudge against Mr. Himura for that matter. In fact, I owe Mr. Himura a great deal. Whether or not you believe it, Mr. Himura did me a great favor by defeating me on his way to fight with Mr. Shishio. He taught me that the things in our lives that we hold as our truths, must be discovered through our own experiences and not just through what other people tell us."

Misao looked as if a feather could knock her over. "You're grateful to Himura," she repeated, "Even though he defeated Shishio?"

"If there was one thing that Mr. Shishio taught me, it was that revenge serves us no purpose. So we must always look forward in life and make the most of what we have." Soujiro chuckled at the look on Misao's face. "Mr. Shishio was the perfect example of this. When the government betrayed him and tried to silence him by burning him, he didn't seek revenge. Instead, Mr. Shishio used the injuries given to him by the government as his knew strength and fueled his dream to create a greater and stronger Japan."

"How can you agree with that when you saw all the bloodshed Shishio's plan would have caused?" demanded Misao, thinking that she had finally found a weakness in Soujiro's reasoning.

"I never said that I agreed with his methods though, at the time, I did," replied Soujiro, "But it wasn't the way Mr. Shishio went about realizing his dream that enthralled any of us, except for maybe Usui and a few others."

"Huh," Misao once again looked baffled.

"To Shishio, the means were not nearly as important as the ends," Aoshi explained for her, speaking up for the first time in a while, "His goal was so important to him that he was willing to go to any lengths to accomplish it." Aoshi turned his face away from Misao as she looked at him. "I, for one, know exactly the kind of reasoning that Shishio was using, having fallen victim to the same trap myself."

"Lord Aoshi," said Misao softly, "What to you mean?"

Aoshi sighed. "After the events at the Kanryu estate, I lost myself in my one goal, to be recognized as the strongest. For the longest time, I threw away everything that I was solely for the sake of my rematch with the Battousai. What a fool I was."

"Now now," said Soujiro in a cheerful tone, "There is no need to get bogged down in the events of the past now is there. Mr. Himura taught me through his actions that if we linger forever on the past, then we can do no good with our futures. So in the end, we must move on and try to make the best of the time we still have instead of dwelling endlessly on that which we've already used."

"I'm not so sure of it," grumbled Misao, "I still don't think we can trust you."

"Well," said Soujiro cheerfully, "No one ever said that you had to." He clapped his hands in sudden inspiration. "I know," he exclaimed, "We only finished dinner a short while ago. So why don't you join Master Hiko, Takezo, and I for evening tea. It would be a nice treat as we so rarely get any company out here."

To his surprise, and even more so to the surprise of Misao, Aoshi gave him the smallest of smiles. "I believe that we shall accept your invitation," answered Aoshi.

"Wonderful," said Soujiro, "Follow me then." He led them towards the house of Seijuro Hiko.

The unfortunate man did not get a chance to scream as the sword neatly separated his head from his shoulders at the neck. Ishiro stood over the body of the now deceased spy, scowling at the decapitated corpse.

"I don't know whose call you answer mongrel dog," growled Ishiro, "But you will not be barking anymore."

Ishiro flicked his wrist to clear blood from the blade of his sword before sheathing it. After completing his grim business, he looked up to see Soujiro and the two members of the Oniwaban group heading towards the house in the center of the clearing. _So this is where our rat is hiding,_ mused Ishiro. Looking at the three, he quickly deduced that the young, boyish one had to be Soujiro. The girl was, of course, none other than Misao Makimachi, the one who had led him here. The third had to be…

As he watched, the tallest of the three, the man he presumed to be Aoshi Shinomori, turned in Ishiro's direction, eyes narrowing. Ishiro bit back a snarl and ducked lower for cover. Aoshi scanned the area for a bit before following the other two into the house.

With a smirk, Ishiro departed for the city. He wasn't foolish enough to try anything with one of the most dangerous men in all of Japan standing right next to his intended target. No, Ishiro would wait until the right moment presented itself before making his move.

Evening tea was a success, despite the fact that Seijuro Hiko never touched a single drop of the stuff, choosing instead to continue downing sake at an alarming rate. If there was one thing Soujiro could marvel at, it was the way the man could hold his liquor. He lost count a long time ago of how many cups of sake Hiko could drink at one sitting. Soujiro, like the others, stuck to tea. A few years back, when he was in Mr. Shishio's service, a much younger Soujiro had tried sake for the first time. Not only did he not like the taste of the stuff, but sake gave Soujiro a headache he would never forget.

_With a taste and aftereffect like that,_ thought Soujiro wryly, _It's__ almost no wonder why my stepfather was so unpleasant all the time._ That man hadn't even bothered to use a cup, instead drinking it straight from the jug, slopping a good half of it across his face as he did so.

Of all the objects his stepfamily hit him with, Soujiro hated sake jugs the most. The ceramic jars were quick to shatter against his skull, slicing into his skin with the resulting shrapnel. The alcohol leftover from the sake that had been in those jugs only served to make the wounds sting and hurt even more. Add to that the fact that empty sake containers were bad news in the first place, meaning that someone in his family had recently emptied them, meaning they were most likely drunk, which was when his family had been at their most violent state, meant that Soujiro had a very strong dislike for the stuff.

They conversed about various things for a while before Aoshi finally decided that it was time for him and Misao to take their leave. As they made their way down the path into the city proper, Misao turned to look up at the man who was her father, teacher, leader and the man who held her heart. "Do you trust him?" she asked softly.

In answer, Aoshi did something completely unexpected. He stopped. Misao stopped with him. Ever so gently, he cupped Misao's chin in his right hand. Misao could feel calloused skin that resulted from years of swordsmanship. Aoshi then tilted her head up to look into his piercing ice-blue eyes. "Do you trust me?" he asked.

Without hesitation, Misao nodded. Aoshi leaned down and kissed her lips ever so lightly. Misao felt her face go red and her senses begin the blur as the dreams she had held for so long finally came true. Aoshi lifted his head away and let go of her chin. "There is your answer," he said. Without any further comment, he continued along his way. Misao stood behind, completely dumbstruck for a moment.

Misao had to think about what Aoshi had said. It made sense. If she was willing to trust Aoshi Shinomori, a man so wrapped up in his goal of defeating Kenshin that he was willing to kill one of his own and even join with his organization's enemy in order to fulfill that goal; then trusting a person like Soujiro, who was little more than a confused child just trying to find some kind of direction in life and live it his own way would be a simple matter.

After finally regaining her senses, Misao broke into a run after her love. They were halfway along the path when Aoshi stopped abruptly. Misao nearly ran into his back. "Lord Aoshi?" she asked.

Aoshi suddenly stepped off the path, into the trees, and vanished into the shadows. Misao followed his example. Over the year since the incident with Shishio, Aoshi had resigned the fact that he couldn't dissuade Misao from becoming a member of the Oniwaban Group. And so, for the sake of her own protection, he had done his best to prepare her for that sort of life. The young woman proved to be an adept pupil. Considering the speed with which her training progressed, Aoshi almost regretted the fact that he had left her with Okina so many years ago. Had things been different, she could have been one of his most talented agents, with skills that rivaled his own.

They made their doubled back towards Hiko's home through the forest. They stopped in the trees around the clearing where his house stood. There, Aoshi began making a sweep of the area. Misao followed suit.

Finally, Aoshi found what he was looking for. Carefully, he placed the tips of his fingers against the trunk of the nearby tree and tapped them against it in a specific sequence, a code that only members of the Oniwaban Group knew. Hearing the message, Misao came running. She stopped short when she found Aoshi.

Laying on the ground at his feet was the beheaded carcass of a man. Misao put her hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp of horror and disgust. She couldn't let Aoshi see her weakness; otherwise he might stop training her.

Shinomori seemed to ignore Misao for the time being. Instead, he got a good look at the body of the dead man. He walked over and found the head, just a few feet away from the rest of the corpse. "I thought so," he said, getting a good look at the face, "He was one of Saitou's agents."

"But who killed him?" Misao wanted to know.

"That is the question," agreed Aoshi, "Someone else has apparently noticed that the Tenken is in Kyoto."

"And whoever it was isn't working for the police," added Misao, "That much is for sure."

Hajime Saitou knew better than to keep his hopes up. His spy was long past due to report. Saitou always tried to be flexible when getting reports from his agents. After all it was difficult and took time to break from cover to give him the information they had gathered. Knowing that experienced spies were often even rarer than skilled swordsmen, Saitou didn't want the men and women he did have on the job taking foolish risks just so they could report to him on time.

But this was long past the very generous time frame Saitou had supplied to this particular spy. That could have meant only one thing; the man was dead. This had been the same man who had brought Saitou information about the other swordsman in Kyoto who could use Shukuchi and the fact that the wolf's former apprentice, Kojiro was now working for Matahachi. He was also the man who had been the primary agent in Saitou's search for Soujiro Seta.

Saitou had no choice but to pull one of his other agents off his current assignment and continue the job. He sighed as he used his chopsticks to lift another mouthful of soba into his mouth. As he slurped up the noodles, he got an idea. Instead of actively searching for Soujiro, Saitou would instead assign the new agent to keeping an eye exclusively on Matahachi and company. Saitou figured that if he watched Matahachi long enough, Soujiro would eventually come into view as Matahachi's plans for revenge reached fruition. Saitou also planned to have his person look into the past and present of this particular man, something that would give Saitou a clearer notion of what he was dealing with.

Satisfied with his new strategy, Saitou drained the last of the broth from his bowl and set a few sen on the table to pay for his meal. It was too late to contact the ideal agent tonight, but in the morning, Saitou intended contact her immediately. _It is time to put my new protégé to good use,_ he thought.

"Have you found him?" Matahachi wanted to know. He was getting tired of waiting for Ishiro to find Soujiro.

Ishiro considered for a moment, telling Matahachi that he had found Soujiro and telling the man where the Tenken was. Ishiro opened his mouth. "No," he said. He had other plans for the young man. Ishiro didn't want to set Matahachi's plan for revenge into motion just yet.

"Then why are you here?!" Matahachi screamed, "Go out and do not come back until you find Soujiro!"

"As you wish," replied Ishiro. He picked up his sword and strode from the room, leaving his employer fuming.

"I hope this agreement works out for the both of us," said one of the men. Dressed neatly in a western business suit, the man put his hand on top of the packet of money that lay on the floor in front of him. The man across from him, dressed in a more traditional kimono, smiled in agreement.

"I agree, sir," he said, "You'll be a rich man if you make sure that word of this business never gets to the ears of the cabinet. As the liaison between the police office and the department, you are in the ideal position to make sure that anything the police do find out, doesn't reach the ears of the politicians."

"Of course," agreed the government official. He was a minor secretary to the Department of Internal Affairs, the person who was in charge of the information that came in via the police. Not satisfied with the amount he was getting, he agreed to an offer from a man with an interesting proposition. The man was part of an opium ring. It was doubtful that said ring was going to be able to operate without being noticed by the police forever. That was where the secretary came in. The police couldn't break up the ring without the go ahead from the Department. But all their information went through a bottleneck in the form of the secretary. With the right amount of bribe money, they convinced him to keep the police from acting by making sure that the information they gave never reached the ears of their higher ups. The police were unlikely to get suspicious, instead chalking it up as yet another of the many downsides to running a bureaucracy.

The representative from the opium ring clapped his hands together. "Now, that's enough talk about business," he said, "I've arranged for some entertainment for us. I hope you like her."

The door off to one side slid open, admitting a young woman. She was simply stunning. Her skin was a delicate cream color. Dark brown hair fell in a cascade across her shoulders, reaching all the way down to the small of her back. The young woman's eyes were a beautiful sapphire blue color. She wore a crimson kimono decorated with images of cherry blossoms. What was truly surprising was that it all appeared to be natural and she needed no makeup to enhance her beauty.

Both the opium runner and the politician's mouths dropped when they saw the young lady. She couldn't have been more than seventeen or maybe eighteen years old. "I'm here to entertain you gentlemen," she announced congenially. Then, her eyes narrowed and took on a cold, ruthless edge. "But I doubt that you'll find being arrested very entertaining."

Before the stunned men could react, her left hand reached into the voluminous right sleeve of her kimono. The distinctive grating sound of a sword being drawn was heard. A few seconds later, a wakizashi emerged. The light from the lanterns in the room glimmered off its finely honed edge.

With an evil scowl, the woman leveled the wakizashi at the two men. "By the authority vested in me by the Department of Internal affairs," she said, her voice almost becoming a growl, "You are hereby under arrest."

After recovering from his surprise, the drug runner smiled. "You think that you can take me so easily," he said. He rapped his hand sharply against the floor of the room three times. The door opposite to the one from which the young woman entered slid open. A group of five sword wielding men entered. And unlike the woman, they were carrying full length katanas.

Her expression didn't change as she stepped up against the wall. The five swordsmen charged her. The first one to reach the woman used a two-handed side slash from left to right. The young lady sidestepped in the same direction as the attack. The man holding the katana yelped in surprise as the tip imbedded itself in the wall behind the woman, who took advantage of the opening by reversing her grip on the wakizashi and bringing it up to slice open the man's throat. As he fell, another bodyguard attacked from behind, this one attempting a slash straight down from overhead. She sidestepped the attack easily. The second attacker also imbedded the blade of his sword in the wall as the woman smoothly returned her short sword to its original orientation and opened the second man's throat with a backhanded slash.

The third, fourth, and fifth bodyguards came at her all at once. They coordinated their movements carefully, the two on the outside attacking with side slashes while the third used a downward slash in an attempt to trap her. They were taken by surprise when the woman pushed away from the wall and into the center of their formation. Moving quickly, she was between them before they had time to react. Her first action was to shove her wakizashi into the middle man's chest. She threw her weight into the thrust, pushing her way out from between the other two. She then kicked against the man she had impaled and used the force to free her wakizashi from his body. She quickly turned to face her two remaining opponents who, still holding their coordination, had turned to attack her with their horizontal attacks. However, the man to her right was attacking just a little faster than the man on the left. The girl caught the leading blade with her short sword, right above the guard, and forced it upward into the path of the second blade so that they blocked one another. She then forced both of them up while she herself dropped down beneath them. Quickly withdrawing her sword from its blocking position, she attacked the man on her left with a back handed slash, which opened up his torso as she spun between them, bringing the blade around and up slightly to open a similar wound on the second man. As she spun out from between them and straightened back up, they both fell dead.

The woman turned to regard the two men she who remained in the room. Neither had moved as they were both paralyzed with fear. Her eyes showing no sign of mercy or compassion, she flicked her wrist so that the blood went flying from the blade of her sword, to spatter in the face of the drug runner.

"Resisting arrest only adds to your list of crimes," she said simply. Pulling a whistle from within her kimono, she blew it. Seconds later, five police swordsmen arrived in the room. After a few moments, the two men were lead away in handcuffs.

The captain of the police turned and bowed to her. "You have performed admirably Ms. Ebisu, we appreciate your work tonight."

"I can't stand corruption," said the woman as she pulled the sheath for her wakizashi from the sleeve of her kimono and slid the blade inside. She then tucked it into her obi. "Therefore, the pleasure was all mine."

"We continue to expect good work from you Ms. Ebisu," continued the captain, "But you should probably consider cleaning yourself up first."

At that moment, the woman looked down at herself for the first time. Sure enough, her kimono was soaked with blood; and though she couldn't see it, she was certain that her face was in a similar condition. She could even feel her hair matted by the amount of blood that hand soaked in there. "I agree wholeheartedly, sir," she said after a moment.

The officer tipped his hat. "Well, goodnight then Ms. Ebisu."

She nodded in return, "Farewell, sir." After he left, she took a rather roundabout route to the inn where she was staying. Ms. Ebisu entered the inn's courtyard from the back and went straight for the well. Once she drew up a bucket, the young woman rinsed her hands and face to wash off the blood. There was little she could do for her kimono until she could afford to give it a more thorough washing. Having finished that, the woman quietly entered the inn through the back door. It was late at night, so most of the other guests were probably asleep. She made it to her room without incident. Once she was there, she changed into a clean set of clothes and lay down her sword. The woman then went out the way she had come in, exited the courtyard and went around to come in from the front.

As she suspected, the old woman who owned the inn was waiting for her on the veranda. "Welcome back," she said, "You have a message, Ms. Ebisu," she said, handing a note to the young woman before going back into the inn.

The young swordswoman unfolded the note that the innkeeper gave her.

_My Dear Akemi;_

It read. She smiled; only one person addressed her in such a manner.

_I am pleased to hear that you intend to visit __Kyoto__ within the week. When you arrive, please do come to visit me if you have the time. I am always eager to hear what my favorite niece has been up to since I last saw her. Remember, you can always find me at the old restaurant not far from the police station at around lunch time._

_Your affectionate uncle;_

_Goro__ Fujita_

Akemi Ebisu smiled. _So the old wolf has another job for me, does he,_ she thought eagerly, _This__ should be interesting._

__

_I must have been insane to agree to this,_ Soujiro complained silently, _Surely__ anything Mr. Shishio could come up with couldn't be more torturous than this._

The training on the cliffs had resumed. However, Soujiro lay on the ground, completely drained of strength and barely able to twitch. His right hand feebly clasped the sword that Hiko had given him so that Soujiro didn't have to keep borrowing Takezo's blade. As usual, Hiko sat on a natural stone bench nearer to the edge of the cliff, having somehow managed to pull a sake jug and cup from nowhere, and was silently sipping away while watching his new apprentice's progress as he tried to get to his feet.

"Are you done sleeping?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, "If you don't mind, I would actually like to _start_ training today, but if my idiot apprentice is too lazy to stand after a simple warm up, maybe I should call it a day."

Soujiro winced inwardly. Being called lazy, even in such a casual manner, brought back some bad memories. Back when he was a child, Soujiro had quickly learned to associate being called lazy with a swift beating. That memory unconsciously lent strength to the young man's muscles as he began to lift himself from the ground. Being lazy meant he would have to be punished. Heck, he would probably be punished anyway, which meant that he had to put on his best expression for defense against such problems. However, being on his feet and ready to continue, while putting forth his best face might help to lessen that punishment somewhat. For the briefest instant, Soujiro was not a nineteen-year-old swordsman training with Seijuro Hiko XIII on the cliffs of a waterfall outside Kyoto. Soujiro was a small child, preparing himself physically and mentally for the beating he was about to received for being perceived as lazing about on the job.

Seijuro Hiko looked on expressionlessly as Soujiro got to his feet, the most radiant smile the older man had ever seen on his face. Yet, at the same time, the boy looked cringing, almost as if he were expecting some sort of physical punishment for being exhausted. Seijuro Hiko shook his head in amusement. They were so much alike, Kenshin and this boy. They both came from troubled backgrounds, probably even more so for Soujiro. They were both sword wielding prodigies. And they both went through more personality changes than a schizophrenic on a sugar high and drunk off a tavern's worth of sake.

He waited a moment. When Soujiro made no other movement, Hiko sighed. "A swordsman who cannot take the initiative and lead the strike against his opponent will have his power cut in half. If you forever wait for your foe to attack first, you will never be able to fight to your full potential."

Soujiro's eyes slowly opened and the smile disappeared. They were replaced with a look of slight confusion. Soujiro let out a few "Uhs" and "Huhs" before Hiko's words finally took hold in his mind. Then, the smile returned and he giggled slightly. "Sorry Master Hiko. It's just that your remarks brought back some strong memories for me."

The next thing he knew was Seijuro Hiko bearing down on him like a white-clad, sword wielding cannon ball. Soujiro barely managed to lift his sword in time to deflect the powerful attack, which was followed almost immediately after by another…and another…and another. The force of the blows was so great, that the impacts were nearly enough to tear Soujiro's sword from his hands.

A slash came in low, aiming for Soujiro's ankles. Reacting naturally, Soujiro launched himself into the air to avoid the attack. Of course, that was exactly what Seijuro Hiko had been waiting for.

"Ryu-Shou-Sen!" The flat of the blade slammed itself into Soujiro's chin, making his teeth clack together very painfully. The attack also knocked him off balance so that he fell onto his back, banging his head against the hard ground.

"Ugh," groaned Soujiro as he once again tried to get back on his feet.

"The last thing you should be doing in a fight is reminiscing about past times. Your mind should be focused completely on the battle you are fighting. If you cannot accomplish something as basic as that, then you shouldn't be using a sword at all." Hiko seated himself on the bench once again and began to sip some more sake.

"You remind me of my first blockhe-I mean apprentice," he said calmly as he waited for Soujiro to once again get to his feet, "Why I still remember the first time Kenshin wet his bed." Seijuro tipped his head up slightly to down another cup of sake. As he did so, he saw the glimmer of a swiftly descending sword.

"Hiten Mitsurugi style; Ryu-Tsui-Sen!" Soujiro's sword cleaved through an empty sake cup before imbedding itself in the stone bench that Hiko had been sitting on.

The look of frustration on Soujiro's face couldn't have been more amusing. Hiko smirked superiorly. "I'm not as easily distracted as you are," he said haughtily, "And though I was reminiscing about past experiences, that didn't mean that I wasn't able to keep my mind on the present. And in battle, that's what really counts. Oh, and you owe me for that cup by the way."

As he pulled his blade free from the rock, Soujiro smiled. "I suppose," he agreed.

"Now," said Hiko, putting up his sword once more, "Let's go."

With the clash of steel on steel, they came together.

Saitou raised another mouthful of soba to his lips and blew on it a little before biting down on it.

"Swallowing down soba like it's going out of style, uncle?" came an amused voice from behind him.

"And why not, my dear?" he replied nonchalantly. He put a friendly smile on his face as his "niece" sat herself down in front of him. "Prompt as ever, Akemi."

"Have you come to expect anything less?" she asked, folding her hands under her chin and propping them up by her elbows on the table. The waitress came over to take her order.

Upon hearing the young woman's order, Saitou chuckled. "And you criticize me for sticking to soba. The way you gobble down mochi, it's amazing that there's any left in Japan."

"You have your preference uncle and I have mine," she commented.

As they waited for Akemi's meal to be delivered, they discussed all manner of things. Anyone who would have been observing them would have only guessed that they were only a couple of relatives spending time catching up with each other. Akemi's mochi was delivered. She ate it with a relish. Saitou finished up his bowl of soba at about the same time.

"Will you be so kind as to accompany me back to my place of work?" he asked congenially.

"Of course I would," was the equally cheerful reply.

The streets of Kyoto were crowded during midday as the sun beat down from directly overhead. They were full of men and women shopping and heading in and out of various dining establishments, much like the one that Saitou and Akemi had just left.

In the crowd, where their conversation would just be another addition to the endless buzz of voices, Saitou and Akemi could converse in relative safety.

"I take it that you have a new assignment for me," she said. Her tone had changed from conversational to businesslike nearly instantly.

"And an important one at that," added Saitou, "Why else would I ask you to come see me personally?"

"Either it's important, or it's in Kyoto," guessed Akemi.

"Both," answered Saitou.

"Interesting," was all that Akemi could say, "So, what is the nature of this all important assignment. You're lucky I was only in Osaka, or I might have had a hard time reaching you."

"As you have probably heard," began Saitou, "I have been searching for the young man named Soujiro Seta, also known as the Tenken. He was…"

"The right hand man of Makoto Shishio, whom plotted nearly succeeded at the downfall of the Meiji government," finished Akemi impatiently, "I know all this Saitou. Get to the point."

"The point is that the government isn't the only enemy Soujiro has made over these eleven years since he joined Shishio," said Saitou without missing a beat, "He has made a somewhat formidable adversary in the cousin of his stepfamily; a man named Matahachi, who also happens to be a member of the police swordsmen."

"I take it that he's as arrogant as the rest of them," she commented dryly.

"Seeing as he's from Satsuma, yes," agreed Saitou, "But especially so where his estranged cousin is concerned. When the issue of young Soujiro comes up, Matahachi seems to lose all connection with reason."

"And what has this got to do with anything?" inquired Akemi.

"Matahachi is proving a bother in my search for the Tenken," said Saitou, "However, as his plot for revenge develops, I do not doubt that he will draw Soujiro into the open. Family matters always seem to override caution where fugitives are concerned. In any case, this supplies us with both the opportunity to get Soujiro and remove Matahachi from the equation as well.

"And how do you figure that?" Akemi wanted to know.

"From what my agent observed before he was dealt with," said Saitou, "Matahachi apparently has more funds at his disposal than a normal man of his station within the government should have. However, I was still too busy looking for the location of Soujiro to investigate this further. Now that I think about it, Matahachi can only be getting his funding through less than legitimate means.

"This is where I want you to come in. It's up to you to get on the inside and find out how Matahachi is making his money and where it's coming from. Once we have the information, we will simply wait for Soujiro to be lured out and then deal with them all in one fell swoop."

Akemi nodded. "Do you want me to deal with them?" she asked.

"No," replied Saitou quickly, "Since I will be on hand, there's no sense in risking your cover. You simply worry about getting me the information I need and I will take care of the rest."

"Yes sir," responded Akemi.

They had arrived at the police station. Saitou once again put on the pleasant façade of Gorou Fujita. "Please do visit me again if you're in the area, my dear Akemi."

"I would love to uncle Gorou," she replied, playing along.

They parted ways. Akemi's cheerful face faded to a look of cold calculation as she figured out the best way to get to Matahachi Seta.

Soujiro winced as Takezo applied the ointment to his hands. He finally gave a sigh of relief as his mute friend finished bandaging the battered extremities. Soujiro gave his friend a reassuring smile as he spoke. "I think I'm getting better. At least today's blisters are smaller." Takezo returned the smile and put the bandages and medicine away.

Soujiro's eyes narrowed slightly as he detected a bold presence approaching the house. Opening the door, his eyes widened in surprise. "Ms. Makimachi!" he exclaimed, "What a surprise. I didn't expect to see you here this evening."

Misao had dressed in a far more casual outfit; though it still gave one more than an ample view of her shapely legs. It appeared that modesty in that respect was not Misao's strong point.

Misao's face had taken on a sheepish, almost apologetic look to it as she met Soujiro's gaze. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry for what happened last night. I-I let my memories of what happened to Eiji's parents get the better of me."

"Eiji?" said Soujiro, baffled.

"His brother was an officer of the police. Both his brother and his parents were killed by Senkaku," she clarified for him, looking down sadly as she spoke.

"Oh that's right," said Soujiro in recognition, "Those were the people Mr. Senkaku killed right before Mr. Shishio came to the village for his visit to the baths."

Misao nodded, "That's him."

Soujiro's face fell as he remembered those days. Back when he had been the Tenken, memories of the people he had killed held no meaning for him. Soujiro had no love for killing, but neither did he hate it. To him, killing had just been something that had to be done once in a while. It really hadn't mattered whether or not he had to kill someone, just so long as he was serving Mr. Shishio and holding true to the idea of survival of the fittest.

All of a sudden, Soujiro's face brightened immensely. "I'm forgetting my manners," he said cheerfully, giving Misao his most brilliant smile, "We are just about ready to eat dinner. Would you like to join us?"

Misao considered it for a moment. Considering how far the place was from the Aoiya, by the time she got back to the restaurant, dinner would already be over. Her stomach rumbled, adding its two sen to her inner discussion. Finally, Misao returned Soujiro's smile. "I'd love to," she answered.

Soujiro lay on the ground, half asleep. Like every day before, it had been a long day of training under Master Hiko. Despite Takezo's treatment, his hands were still sore from the long hours of practice and sparring with Hiko.

To his surprise, Misao stayed after dinner and sat down next to him on the grass. A little bit later, she lay down as well, staring up into the darkening sky. "What's it like?" she asked.

"Huh?" Soujiro wasn't sure what she was talking about. He turned his head so that he could look at her in the edge of his vision.

"Hiko's training," said Misao, not turning to look at him, "What's it like?"

"It's very hard and long," replied Soujiro, "Master Hiko does not hesitate to push me to my limits every single day. I have been training with him for more than a week now and I still haven't been able to land a single blow on him."

"I was there when he fought Fuji of the Destruction Army," commented Misao, "There's no one like him, is there?"

"No one that I can think of," agreed Soujiro, "Even Mr. Shishio wouldn't have been able to defeat Mr. Hiko, had they fought."

"That's high praise," said Misao, "Coming from someone like you, who knows exactly how strong Shishio was." She finally turned her head to look at him. "But I don't understand," she added, "Why do you still insist on calling him _Mr_. Shishio, even though you know that what he stood for was wrong and that he was an evil man."

"First," replied Soujiro, "Mr. Shishio wasn't entirely wrong." Misao raised an eyebrow at this, so he continued. "What Mr. Shishio really wanted to do was build a stronger Japan. I'll admit that sowing chaos and turning the country into a hell on Earth wasn't the way to go about it, but I do think his fundamental idea was correct." Misao nodded at this.

Soujiro continued. "And second, Mr. Shishio will always hold a special place in my heart." His eyes glazed over as his thoughts returned to that time long ago. "Back when we met for the first time, he was the first person ever to see something of worthwhile in me. He was the first person to see as someone more than some illegitimate bastard who was only good for a life of servitude. More than that, he was the man who raised me from a weak child into the person that I was up until Mr. Himura fought me. And while I can't say that that's exactly a good thing anymore, it was more than my own family ever did for me. So, in a way, Mr. Shishio was the father I never had." Tears began to trickle down Soujiro's cheeks at the painful memories that he had dug up. He flinched reflexively when he felt that first touch, but Misao's gentle fingers erased his fears as they brushed away those tears.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, "I didn't mean to make you remember painful things."

"It's alright," replied Soujiro, "In the end, they are only memories, phantoms of a time long past that will never be able to hurt me again. I can find some peace in that fact."

Misao nodded and smiled.

It was late at night before Misao finally departed to return to the Aoiya. Soujiro remained where he was, thinking about the events of that evening. Soujiro realized that he had made his second real friend in Kyoto.

Ishiro smiled as he watched Misao travel down the path towards the Aoiya. The girl was obviously so distracted that she didn't notice the man who carefully watched her every move. Ishiro's smile widened. He had begun to formulate this plan after the first time Aoshi and Misao had met with Soujiro. It would take time and patience, but he would wait for Soujiro and this girl to become close friends. Then, when the time was just right, Ishiro would catch them both off guard and take the girl prisoner right before the Tenken's eyes. Misao Makimachi would then become the perfect bait to draw Soujiro into the trap Matahachi set.

The opium runner looked up as the door to his cell slid open. He gulped nervously as the same young woman who had apprehended him only two nights ago stepped in. She smiled almost indulgently at him. "How would you like the possibility of your sentence being cut short?" she asked, getting right to the point.

The man nodded. In the presence of someone so dangerous, it was a good idea to simply agree with her so that she didn't execute him on the spot.

"Good," said Akemi, smiling coldly, "I want some information. In exchange for this information, I'll see if I can shave some time off your prison sentence. If the information is good enough, I might be able to secure your pardon immediately."

The man nodded again.

"I want you tell me if your organization has ever had dealings with a man named Matahachi Seta?" she asked.

Hiko stayed up later than he normally did. Most of what he was doing was thinking. As he sipped from a cup of sake, Hiko considered his newest apprentice. Under normal circumstances, the man would have turned down anyone Soujiro's age. Soujiro Seta would have been far too old to have begun studies in such an advanced school of swordsmanship as the Hiten Mitsurugi style. However, Hiko wasn't getting any younger. Both of the men he had already trained fully in his style had declined to accept the position as master and the title of Seijuro Hiko XIV. That meant that they also had no intent on passing his style on to later generations. For a man like Seijuro Hiko, that was unacceptable. So, he had to put all his hope into Takezo's choice, which, thus far, seemed to be a good one.

Soujiro would have been completely unable to learn the Hiten Mitsurugi style had he not already been considerably skilled in swordsmanship. Thus, Soujiro was already past the longest stage of training for any stage of swordsmanship. Teaching the young man the specific techniques of the style hadn't been very difficult either. Soujiro was already quite proficient with some of the more basic techniques, such as the He seemed to be capable of duplicating any technique Hiko showed him after seeing it only once. Also, there was Soujiro's already considerable mastery of the Battoujutsu. All that really remained was the fully solidify Soujiro's ability to read and react to the emotional state of his opponents. Once that was complete, the other techniques of the Hiten Mitsurugi style were mere technicalities.

Reflecting on this information, Seijuro Hiko could see how Soujiro had earned his title, the Tenken. Most people who had met, or fought with Soujiro thought that it applied to his advanced abilities with regard to swordsmanship. However, Hiko could see that the nickname that Makoto Shishio had given his best fighter came not from his skill with the sword, but rather his aptitude for it. Like Kenshin and Takezo, Soujiro was nothing short of a prodigy. However, unlike the other two, Soujiro's innate ability was almost beyond measure. Not only did Soujiro have raw talent, he knew how to use it too. He could learn advanced techniques in a tenth of the time that it would require a normal student to learn such a technique. And yet, he had the dedication to the craft that only the best students of swordsmanship possessed. As a result, Soujiro's training much more advanced than most people his age.

The one exception to this was in the area of Soujiro's physical ability. While he could grasp all the technicalities and tricks of swordsmanship with the greatest of ease, his body was no different than any other person's. That meant that his strength and endurance could only be increased through intense physical training that pushed his abilities to the limit time after time. And no matter whom the student was, that process, was always a slow one. That was one of the only reasons Soujiro was still training with Hiko. The successor to the Hiten Mitsurugi style would one day have to have the same or greater strength than his master. And the only way Hiko could ensure that was to put Soujiro on the right path and train him as long and as hard as he could. However, Soujiro didn't have as far to go as he thought.

The real delay lay in the final technique of the Hiten Mitsurugi style. Seijuro Hiko had very seriously considered disqualifying Soujiro on the single fact that he had not only seen the Amakakeru-Ryu-No-Hirameki, but had been on the receiving end of it as well. He had decided to accept Soujiro as his student anyway because it might turn out to be advantageous to Hiko that Soujiro had actually seen the final attack for himself. What that meant, was that Soujiro also knew whether or not he was ready to use the Amakakeru-Ryu-No-Hirameki himself. The fact that both Hiko and Soujiro knew that Soujiro was spiritually unprepared to use the final attack was the real cause of delay. Otherwise, the training might have only lasted a month.

"I'm only going in circles pondering this," mused Hiko aloud. He downed one last cup of sake before deciding to retire for the night.

Weeks passed. Misao Makimachi had become a frequent visitor to Seijuro Hiko's household. It was clear that she and Soujiro were becoming close friends. Despite their strengthening friendship, Soujiro knew better than to ever think of Misao romantically. Her heart would always belong to Aoshi Shinomori. Not that it troubled Soujiro, who didn't think that he was ready for romance anyway.

One person who was keenly aware and very closely observing the growing relationship between Soujiro and Misao was none other than Ishiro, always watching from the shadows. He still refused to tell Matahachi that he had found Soujiro. Knowing the way that fool was about his cousin, Ishiro wouldn't have been surprised had Matahachi led a small army of his underworld cohorts into a doomed battle against not only Soujiro Seta, but two other unknown fighters, one of whom apparently used the same style that made Battousai the Manslayer so feared during the days of the Revolution. It was crystal clear to Ishiro that such a move would have been utter suicide.

Unfortunately for him, Matahachi's patience was fast on the wane. Not only that, as thick as the police swordsman's head was, he wasn't so stupid that he wasn't beginning to figure out that Ishiro was hiding something from him. It was only a matter of time before he figured out that Ishiro really did know the location of Soujiro and demanded it from him.

Fortunately, the time was swiftly coming when the situation would be ripe and ready for Ishiro to exploit. He was certain that he could set things into motion almost immediately, given the current state of affairs between Soujiro and Misao. However, he was still waiting for Matahachi to consolidate his resources and get everything ready for the coming battle.

With that thought in mind, Ishiro realized that the time had come for him to report to his employer once again.

It was around one-o'clock that Ishiro arrived at the manor. Ishiro understood the situation the instant he laid eyes on Matahachi's face. The man was livid. His face was a shade of red that heated metal took on. The moment Ishiro entered the room; Matahachi leveled an accusing finger at the man. "You know!" he nearly screamed. It was not a question.

Ishiro decided to play innocent. "Know what?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Matahachi easily saw through the deception. "Don't play games with me!" he hissed, "Tell me where Soujiro is hiding! NOW!" The last word was nearly a roar.

Ishiro kept his expression neutral and businesslike. "Not until you promise something," he said calmly.

"And what would that be?" demanded Matahachi, "Soujiro, the bastard responsible for the deaths of my family, has been uncovered. I paid you good money to find him and tell me immediately. Now tell me! WHERE IS SOUJIRO SETA?!"

"Not until you calm down," replied Ishiro calmly.

"You insubordinate…" Matahachi ranted.

"Since you are quite obviously not ready to hear what I have to say, then I shall withhold my information until I see fit and no sooner." Ishiro turned around and began to take his leave.

"Wait," the anger left Matahachi's voice, making him sound almost plaintive, "Forgive me, but the mere mention of my cousin invokes strong emotions within me and will continue to do so until he is dead."

"I see," replied Ishiro, "Very well then. Wait until you hear everything I have to tell you before you say anything. And wait until you hear my proposition before you act."

"Begin," said Matahachi.

Ishiro took a deep breath. "Soujiro Seta has been staying with a potter on the outskirts of Kyoto for some weeks now. However, this is no ordinary potter. From what I have seen, the man he is staying with is actually a swordsman who apparently uses the same style as Battousai the Manslayer. It also appears that he has taken Soujiro as his student in this style.

"A few weeks ago, Soujiro was approached by none other than Aoshi Shinomori and Misao Makimachi of the Oniwaban Group. They have apparently resolved their differences and Soujiro and Ms. Makimachi have become good friends over the past few weeks, maybe even more than friends."

"What does that have to do with our plan?" asked Matahachi.

"You don't understand?" responded Ishiro, "In making a friend with this Makimachi woman, Soujiro has furnished us with the perfect bait for a trap with which to destroy him. All we have to do is capture Ms. Makimachi and Soujiro and any allies he brings will come right to the battlefield of our choosing at the time we decide." He smirked evilly. "With Ms. Makimachi in our custody, we will be in complete control of the situation."

"I see," commented Ishiro, grinning from ear to ear, "This I like."

"All you need to do is make sure that everything is ready and I will see to it that Soujiro receives our…invitation." Ishiro rubbed his thumb across the pommel of his sword as he anticipated the fight ahead.

"Very well," said Matahachi, "My men have been in place for over a month now, so see to it that Soujiro gets the message."

"Without delay," replied Ishiro. He left immediately.

Behind him, Matahachi rubbed his hands together eagerly. "Soon cousin," he whispered, "Soon your head will be mine."

Luck was with Ishiro. Dusk had just fallen when he arrived at Soujiro's hiding place. Not only that, Misao was with Soujiro. As usual, they were lying side by side on the grass outside the house, conversing quietly. Ishiro settled in to wait.

It was another two hours before Misao finally got up to leave. Ishiro waited for her to get out of Soujiro's line of sight before taking up the chase. About halfway to the city proper, Ishiro made his move.

Misao's only warning was the rapid pounding that almost sounded like a gattling gun going off nearby. She didn't see the man approaching her from her right flank. Nor did she see the hilt of the sword which slammed into the side of her head, sending her plunging into darkness.

Soujiro himself was about to retire for the night. He had gotten to his feet and was about to head into the house when a whistling noise caught his attention. He looked down just in time to see a kunai, with a small sheet of paper wrapped around the handle imbed itself in the ground between his feet.

"That's one of Ms. Misao's" he whispered to himself as he bent down to pick the weapon up. As he did so, he looked around for any sign of the person who had thrown it. Unwrapping and reading the note, Soujiro hissed in anger. However, he was angrier at himself for not expecting his cousin to use this kind of dirty trick. The note read…

_Tomorrow evening at __10:00__; be there or Ms. Makimachi will not survive the night._

_Courtesy of Matahachi Seta._

There followed a set of directions that would guide Soujiro to the location of the battle. "Fine," he growled, "If this is the way Matahachi wants it, then he will get his wish." Soujiro let go of the sheet of paper. It drifted in the breeze for a moment until a streak of light bisected the piece of paper. Soujiro stood in the gathering gloom, sword drawn and fire in his eyes.

Author Extra: Mochi. Mochi is a sort of cake made from brown rice. It's pounded and then pressed into a very dense square which, when cut and baked, puffs up into a kind of soft, chewy muffin. It's actually quite good. Mochi available in America is generally made from rice grown in California and is available in stores like Whole Foods. It comes in different flavors. Just be careful because once opened, a package of mochi can go bad very fast.

Author's Notes: Transitional chapters are such a pain. But next chapter we get to dive back into the action. Hurrah!

This chapter also sees the introduction of my latest OC, Akemi Ebisu. Her character is one that I have been planning for a while now. It's partially compensation towards the other major female characters in the Rurouni Kenshin storyline. Initially, characters like Karou and Misao are passed off as strong people. But despite the writer's best efforts, these strong female characters still seem to have a tendency to slip into that classic damsel in distress role. My goal with Akemi is to have a female character who can not only hold her own in a general sense, but someone who could go toe to toe with Kenshin or Soujiro. Not to mention that I'm working on her attitude to give her some strong personality similarities to Saitou (she is his protégé after all).


	5. A Family Matter: The Shukuchi Duel

Disclaimer: See prologue

And now the next chapter in my epic story.

Author's Note: This update is long overdue. You see, between this and my last update, I've gone to college. It's taken me a while but I've finally gotten hooked up to the wireless network here in college, which means that I am now able to once again update as I need to. For those of you who protest the fact that I don't include dividers to let you know when i'm changing the setting, I've been trying desperately to include some kind of divider, but just seems to reject all of them. Maybe I'll have something that works in the next update.

**Chapter 5: A Family Matter: The Shukuchi Duel**

As Soujiro headed down the hill, he was greeted by someone he had not expected to see yet.

"Mr. Shinomori," said Soujiro, quite startled by the man's appearance as he practically materialized out of the shadows. _How could anyone conceal his movements with a trench coat like that?_ he wondered briefly.

"Misao has been taken prisoner by your enemy," said Aoshi flatly.

"I know," replied Soujiro, "I'm sorry, I should have seen that coming."

"Do not worry," said Aoshi, "Misao is a strong woman and can take care of herself. She would not want one of her friends foolishly getting himself injured in an ill advised attempt at a rescue."

"So what then?" demanded Soujiro, "Are we just going to leave her?"

"No," replied Aoshi. Soujiro's eyebrow twitched. Did anything ever faze that man? He then gestured for Soujiro come with him. "Follow me," he said. Then, looking over Soujiro's shoulder, "And you as well."

Soujiro turned to see Takezo on the path behind him. Soujiro realized that his mute friend must have seen Soujiro departing and followed him. As he turned back to Aoshi, he saw that the man had already begun to return to the city. Soujiro sighed and began to follow him. He could only hope that following Shinomori to wherever he was going wouldn't lead him into the sight of Saitou's agents. Despite the fact that he knew the risk, Soujiro realized that it was what he would have to do if he ever wanted to be a true disciple of the Hiten Mitsurugi style. It was what he would have to do if he ever wanted to regard himself as a man as well.

And so they followed Aoshi into Kyoto.

Akemi was returning from yet another meeting with an informant. This one had been a lead pointed out by Saitou himself. In her time working for him, Akemi had learned how to work in the underworld almost as efficiently as the criminals that she hunted. In the few years that she had been working for Saitou, the young woman had learned to do more than simply use the same sources as her Sensei. She had learned to find her own contacts and build a small network of her own. And while the information she received wasn't nearly as good as Saitou, who had spent years getting men and women that he handpicked into positions where they could provide him information from all over Japan, it was more than enough to serve her purposes for the time being. However, in this case, Saitou's agents were proving more effective as it became clearer that Matahachi's influence on the other side of the law was connected to a much more complicated web that spread across the entire country. As such, she required information from men who were a part of a network that was at least equally expansive.

And that left Akemi returning to the inn she had booked for the night. The lamps had been lit in the streets, but they did not reduce the shadows in remote corners and secluded alleys. Akemi knew better than to let her guard down, even here in the capital. Sometimes, the heart of civilization was the perfect haunt of the most uncivilized people. She knew from personal experience that many bandits, thieves, and criminals of an even worse nature lurked almost everywhere in the city. Only the richer sections of the former capital were considered truly safe as many wealthy individuals made it well worth the while of the police to make sure that the neighborhoods in which they lived were kept, for lack of a better term, clean.

The more Akemi thought about it, the more her thoughts drifted to the past. It was on a night such as this, six years ago, that she had come face to face with the worse aspects of the city. It was also that incident that had started her on the road that she was on now…

_Twelve-year-old Akemi had gotten separated from her family. As hard as she had tried to keep up with them, the crowds of __Kyoto__ had proved too dense for her. One moment she had been looking at a selection of pretty kimonos in a shop front and the next thing that she knew, her family disappeared from her sight._

_Akemi wandered, hopelessly lost in the seemingly labyrinthine ways of the capital city. Night was beginning to fall and the air was growing colder. The darkness was deepening all around her. And the fact that she was wandering through a section that the lamplighters had yet to get to didn't help._

_As she walked past an alley that was even darker than usual, a grime encrusted hand reached from the gloom and clamped itself over her mouth. Akemi tried to scream, but the offending appendage effectively muffled the sound of her voice. She struggled as hard as she could, but as swiftly as the first, a second arm wrapped itself around her waist, effectively trapping her arms near the wrists and preventing her from using her hands. Together, the two arms pulled her into the darkness of the alley._

_Quickly she was forced to the ground, the hand still refused to budge from its position over her mouth. "What've we got here?" growled a husky voice that came from the shadowy man from above her, "Little girls like you shouldn't be wandering around all alone at night."_

_The sound of that voice caused a panic in Akemi. She struggled as hard as she could, but to no avail. The man laughed at her feeble attempts at resistance and pinned her to the ground with his other hand. The sound was joined by the evil chuckles of at least three others. Akemi gave up hope then and there. It would have been nearly impossible to get the one who was restraining her off. But if there was more than one, then even if she could escape the first man, the others would be on her just as quickly._

_"What say that we have a little fun with the lass?" the man enquired to his companions. The others quickly assented to the suggestion. Their words were followed by many lewd suggestions._

_At the thought of what was about to happen to her, Akemi renewed her struggles, knowing in a remote corner of her mind that she would fail. She realized that she was just about to be raped, all alone in a dark alley, save the four men who were about to violate her, and would probably be killed afterwards._

_With the hand that had been restraining her, the man grabbed a handful of her kimono and pulled hard. The fabric tore as it came away from her body. Akemi began to sob, realizing that her life was near its end._

_Then, the sound of grating metal filled the alley. Moonlight, spilling across the entrance, gleamed off the blade of a drawn katana. The tall, well chiseled man was dressed in the uniform of the police. From where she was, Akemi could see over her captor's shoulder and into the man's eyes, two amber points in diamond shaped pools of white. Gripping the katana near the pommel with his left hand, the man held it almost casually as he strode into the alley._

_Her captor immediately released her and turned around to confront the officer. As he did so, Akemi saw him draw a knife. He held it in his left hand, keeping the blade behind his back so that it wouldn't be given way by any light from outside the alley. She was still too busy gathering her wits after being released to shout out a warning to her rescuer._

_It turned out that her warning was not needed. No sooner had her captor turned fully to face the newcomer, then a sword flashed in the night. The blade severed the man's head at the neck and sent it tumbling away. Blood spurted from the victim's neck, splashing over Akemi and her rescuer. As the beheaded criminal dropped to his knees and finally toppled over forward, the police officer stepped over his body to face the others in the alley._

_Instinctively, Akemi began to crawl in his direction, trying to get out from between him and the remaining men in the alleyway. The officer paid her no mind as she crawled past him. Ignoring the fact that she was drenched in the blood of the man he had just killed, Akemi turned and watched in awe as the officer faced the other men._

_There were three others. Two of them held knives not unlike the one the first man had wielded. The third, who stood slightly behind them, held up a staff in his right hand. He twisted his wrist so that the length of wood lay horizontally across his chest and then, gripping midway up the staff, pulled off what actually was actually the sheath of a concealed sword. Stepping in front of his two cohorts, he pointed the blade at the officer. "Who are you?" he hissed._

_The officer snapped his elbow straight while his arm was at a downward angle, sending flecks of blood flying from the blade. Instead of answering his opponent, the officer stepped forward with his right foot, sliding it forward with his toes pointed at his enemy. As he did so, he rotated his left foot perpendicular to the right. The officer sank into the stance, settling almost all of his weight on his back leg. Cocking his left arm back, he raised the blade of his sword to point at his adversary, holding it parallel with the ground at shoulder level with the blade's edge on the outside. Finally, he raised his right hand and rested it near the tip of his sword, the right index finger coming to rest just above the cutting edge of the sword while his thumb pinched it from underneath. It was only after he had done this that he gave his answer._

_"The dead will have no use for my name," he said. The officer's voice was as cold as ice. Akemi could almost hear an underlying growl, like that of a wild animal._

_"What's that?" barked the other man. He raised his sword to attack, but the officer had already begun._

_The police officer sprang into motion with the fluidity of a wolf, pushing off his back leg and hurtling forward at his opponent. As the other man raised his sword, the officer twisted his upper body, throwing his arm forward and thrusting the sword in a spear-like motion. The blade's point struck the center of the man's chest and punched through without almost any resistance. Blood spewed from the dying man's mouth as the sword was buried up to its hilt in his body._

_The officer and his victim flew between the other two men, who stood stunned by the spectacle. Akemi, the girl they had sought to take advantage of, sat forgotten near the entrance of the alley. The officer twisted his leading foot and dug in with its edge, slowing him down. At the same time, he braced his right hand against his enemy's chest. His upper body snapped back like a whip, his right hand shoving the corpse from his blade and throwing it into the back wall of the alley with enough force to break the wood of the building the sealed off the end._

_The other two men backed away from the officer. He sneered as he turned to face them. Wisely, the two offenders decided that it was in the best interests to run. Unfortunately, the policeman was not about to let them escape. As they ran, he took up the stance he had been in earlier and lunged at the man to his right. He aimed low this time, hitting the fleeing man right behind his left knee, slicing the tendons there and effectively relieving him of the use of that leg. In one fluid motion, the officer began the same process of halting himself that he had used before, while pulling his sword arm out to the side, cutting the sword free from its place in his enemy's leg and bringing it up and out in a backhanded slash that cut through the other criminal's back at chest level, ending the man's life before he even hit the ground._

_The last man collapsed due to his injured leg. Whimpering pitifully, he backed away from the officer, scooting on his butt until his back met the alley wall. "P-please," begged the man, "Show mercy."_

_If at all possible, the officer's sneer became even more vicious. "Mercy has no place in my heart," he replied coolly, "There is only one thing in which I believe." As he spoke, he drew out every word. "Aku…Soku…Zan." As the last syllable escaped his lips, the officer brought his sword down, drawing a line of glowing red across the criminal's face and ending his life._

_The men thus disposed of, the officer turned to face Akemi. She squeaked in fear and tried to pull up the shreds of her kimono to cover herself as best she could. The officer seemed not to notice this as he slid his sword back into its sheath. Instead, he reached up and unbuttoned his jacket revealing another, thinner shirt underneath. After shedding it, he draped the garment across Akemi's shoulders. The girl sighed in relief as she pulled it tight about her._

_The officer rested a hand on her shoulder. "Come," he said simply._

_As she allowed herself to be led by the man, the girl looked up at him. "Excuse me," she said politely, "But who are you?"_

_"I am Goro Fujita," replied the officer, "Assistant inspector of the police."_

_She nodded. And together, they walked off into the darkness._

It had been a strange relationship ever since. Inspector Fujita, or Saitou as she came to know him for who he really was, had not hesitated in locating Akemi's family. However, Akemi had lost all interest in her relatives' way of life, that of circus folk. She instead asked Saitou's permission to stay with him and his wife. Surprisingly, Saitou had been more than willing to accommodate Akemi's request. Not long after she joined, Saitou began to teach her the basics of swordsmanship. Along with this, he taught her the tricks of the trade of being a government agent.

Later on, Akemi decided to learn her own style, one different from that which her mentor used. And so she departed from him for a while and began studying intently as she prepared for the day she would join him in service to the government.

About six months back, Akemi had returned to Saitou, her training complete and prepared for her first assignment. Akemi had handled the issue with little difficulty. She was quickly given other jobs to do and she accomplished them all perfectly.

This new task however, was much more of a challenge to the young woman than any of the other jobs she had taken on in the past. The fact that it required her to make use of her teacher's information network instead of her own was a testament to that fact.

Abruptly, Akemi's thoughts returned to the job at hand. She sensed a potent presence nearby, one that could only belong to a swordsman of considerable skill and fighting spirit. Turning in the general direction, she let her senses guide her to the source of that mysterious feeling. Finally, her eyes lit upon the shadowy figure of a man skulking in the shadows. Her eyes narrowed. It was unlikely for someone with such a potent aura to be in any way well practiced in the arts of stealth. The fact that he moved rather ineptly from one to another proved her suspiscions. But then again, the fact that he was carrying something heavy over his shoulder and yet was able to move with relative amount of secrecy seemed to testify that he might not be what he seemed. Upon closer inspection, Akemi realized that the bundle over his shoulder was actually the limp form of a young woman.

The agent knew immediately that this was a different situation from the one she had found herself involved in all those years ago. For one thing, she was able to identify the victim as none other than Misao Makimachi, a member of the Oniwaban Group and someone who was undoubtedly more than capable of defending herself from the odd criminal. Also, the man who carried her limp form was identifiable as the man who was said to have been working for Matahachi.

Her interest piqued, Akemi followed them as the man made his way across the city while keeping the woman over his shoulder. Akemi, while not near as good as a trained ninja, could still move easily through the shadows without being noticed, provided she kept her distance from her target. Thus, she was able to avoid the man's notice as she tailed him on his way. He led her to an estate that was a fair distance from any of the other high class sections of the city. The presence of the sizable courtyard and the mansion therein was enough to raise her suspicion. If a particularly violent incident were to occur near or around this area, or even within it, it was unlikely that the police would ever know, perfect for a man who was plotting deadly revenge against his relative.

A solid wall encircled the compound with a wrought iron gate at the center of the wall that faced towards the interior of Kyoto. Akemi nodded to herself, understanding that the purpose of that wall was to prevent someone from doing exactly what she was trying to do. The fact that it was solid meant that the only way to see what was on the other side was to get into a position above the wall. And while many of the buildings that lay across the street from said barrier would have provided a sufficient vantage point, her silhouette would still have been exposed in the light of the nearly full moon. Fortunately, the terrain was in favor of any would be spy.

Like many estates of the time, the architects of this particular home had taken advantage of the topography. For the purposes of drainage and waste removal, the mansion itself was situated on high ground within the estate. The slightly sloping ground was just visible to Akemi if she looked at the wall from the right (not 90 degree) angle. From her vantage point, Akemi could see that the ground was mostly clear, save a few decorative hedges and flower gardens, meaning that anyone approaching the mansion would have almost no cover. Matahachi had certainly chosen this place with a mind towards fending off potential intruders.

Having all the information she needed, Akemi decided to report to Saitou straight away. With Matahachi found, all they had to do was wait for Soujiro to show up. Then, the Tenken and his idiot cousin would be theirs.

Soujiro could only gape as Aoshi lay out a large sheet of paper on the table. Aoshi and Soujiro, along with Takezo and the man that Soujiro knew by the name of Okina, had shut themselves in a private room in the Aoiya. The sheet that Aoshi lay out before them was a fully detailed map of a mansion on the other side of the city.

"This is where Matahachi lives?" asked Soujiro. When Aoshi nodded, Soujiro's jaw nearly hit the low table. "How did you get this?"

"The night we first met you at Seijuro Hiko's home, I detected a presence in the woods not far from the house. Later, on our way back, Misao and I doubled back to investigate the woods around Hiko's cottage. We found the dead body of one of Hajime Saitou's agents." Soujiro was noticeably pale at this information. And he should have been. Now that he knew that one of Saitou's men had been found practically on his doorstep, Soujiro was certain that a confrontation with Saitou, something he didn't want at this particular time, would have been certain.

"That would mean that the presence you felt would have come from the person who had slain that man," observed Okina from the side.

Aoshi nodded in agreement. Soujiro had other questions though. "How did you find out about Matahachi?" he wanted to know.

"After our find in the forest, we of the Oniwaban tapped our best sources to track down every iota of information we could find concerning you in recent times. It soon came to our attention that your cousin, or step-cousin rather, was gradually gathering men and consolidating his resources for an act of retribution against you for something you did to him in the past," said Aoshi. Soujiro was quite relieved that he left it at that.

"What did you do to raise the ire of your own cousin?" asked Okina suspiciously.

Soujiro gulped nervously, trying to figure out how he could best explain what this was all about. Fortunately, he was rescued by Aoshi's timely intervention. "That is unimportant," he interjected, "What matters now is putting our plan into action."

"Your plan?" asked a baffled Soujiro.

"It was actually Misao's idea," said Aoshi, "She formulated it herself after we had gathered everything we could on the matter." Soujiro blinked. He might have been hearing things, but he swore that he heard a small note of pride in Shinomori's voice. "The fact that she was captured by one of Matahachi's men indicates that the plan is working perfectly."

"You mean she meant to be captured?" demanded Soujiro.

"Yes," replied Aoshi, "After Misao felt that she was becoming closer to you as a friend, she realized that Matahachi might try to use this to his advantage and use her as a lure to bring you to him. So, she decided to allow herself to be used as the bait in this fight that Matahachi has set up."

"But why?" Soujiro wanted to know.

"In reality, Misao's purpose in being captured was to get herself safely behind enemy lines. Matahachi's henchman will probably stow her in his mansion so that she will be close at hand should he need to threaten you with her life. This also means that Misao is now in a position to weaken Matahachi's defenses from the inside."

"I see," observed Soujiro, "And she came up with this plan by herself."

Aoshi nodded. Soujiro blinked again, this time thinking he was seeing things as he caught the smallest flicker of a smile crossing Aoshi's face. Maybe Master Hiko had hit him over the head a few too many times.

Okina took up the line of conversation. "One of the most important assets that we were able to obtain was this," he pointed to the sheet on the table, "This is a map of Matahachi's compound, including a complete layout of the mansion. With this information, it will be easy to pinpoint the most likely location's Matahachi's men. From there, we can figure out a way to enter the compound without being detected. If we can get to Matahachi himself with the least amount of confrontation possible, then we will be better prepared for the actual battle."

He took up an ink brush and drew several swift X's on the paper. "These," he pointed out, "Are the most likely places occupied by the outermost guards. Okon, Omasu, Shiro, and Kiro will take out the guards positioned here..." Okina circled a cluster of three marks. They were by one of the street side corners.

"Excuse me?" asked Soujiro, "Why not come from the rear?"

"In basic study of tactics, coming at your opponent from the rear is one of the most predictable courses. It is the obvious choice because it is the least defended quarter of any opponent, unless of course he expects that attack from the rear, in which case it is as dangerous as approaching the enemy from the front." Okina's eyes narrowed as he continued. "Every bit of information we have managed to gather concerning Matahachi Seta suggests that he is a shrewd strategist at the very least. He is more than likely prepared for an assault from behind. And besides, in a fortified location, there is no real difference between that locale's front and back, so anyone would guard both the same at the very least."

Soujiro nodded. Matahachi could indeed be clever when it came to certain things. When he had visited the branch of the family, Soujiro lived with; he took a certain amount of pleasure in joining Soujiro's stepbrothers in tormenting him. However, Matahachi had always been a bit more subtle in his torments. Soujiro remembered one incident in particular.

It had been the first time Matahachi had come to visit since Soujiro's stepfamily had taken him in. At that time he was still allowed to sleep in the house at least most of the time. But then Matahachi had come. After learning about Soujiro, his cousin, or stepcousin actually, ranted on about how worthless Soujiro was. That night, Matahachi stole into little Soujiro's room while he was sleeping on a worn futon, something probably pulled from the bottom of a garbage heap. Matahachi had purloined a jug of his stepfather's best sake from the kitchen and proceeded to pour it, carefully, all around the futon, careful to splatter small amounts on Soujiro's face and hands, but mostly saturating the blankets and mattress with it. After that, Matahachi left the jug by Soujiro's head.

That morning, Soujiro was awakened not by daylight filtering in through the windows, or the sounds of morning. What woke him was being bodily lifted from his futon by his enraged stepfather. The man, whose anger was only enhanced by one of his frequent hangovers, did not hesitate to heave Soujiro's little body at the nearest wall. After the child slumped to the floor, his stepfather proceeded beat him savagely with his hands and feet until finally, his rage was spent and he got tired of the little boy's continuous smile. He left, ordering that Soujiro would be spending the night outside for a month at least. And, despite his injuries, Soujiro was forced to haul the same number of rice barrels that he was always told to; even though it meant that he carried them late into the night.

Matahachi was cunning and evil when it came to ensuring that Soujiro suffered while he was there. However, his schemes were always carefully concealed so that somebody else discovered and initiated Soujiro's agony. Matahachi himself never actually participated in beating Soujiro, preferring to goad other people into doing it for him.

"Soujiro," Okina's hand crossed Soujiro's line of sight, startling him from his reverie, "Earth to Soujiro. What's the matter?"

Soujiro smiled at the elderly man. "Why nothing," he said, "Just some old memories."

"Well," stated Okina firmly, "Now is not the time for reminiscing. We have a job to do and we have to get it done."

"Yes, of course," said Soujiro, nodding vigorously.

"Now," said Okina, continuing his plan from before, "Once the guards at this point are taken care of; you, Takezo, and Aoshi will enter the compound. The hedges here," he pointed to the drawing of the hedges on the map, "Should provide you with sufficient cover as long as you maintain the proper angle of approach. Now, once you are inside and under cover, the others will attack the other street side corner in a very blatant manner. This attack will draw the attention of the other guards and they will come running. When that happens, you and the other two will make a break for the main mansion. Once inside, it's up to you to find Misao and deal with Matahachi."

Reaching over, Takezo gently took the ink brush from Okina's hand. Then, he pointed to himself with the butt end of the brush and drew a circle around the guards at the rear corner of the compound, exactly across from where the Oniwaban group would begin their attack.

"You wish to be a part of the diversion?" inquired Okina.

Takezo nodded. Okina looked down and saw the wisdom in the young man's tactics. With a second point of attack, the guards would be spread thinner, which would make the job easier for all concerned. However, Takezo wasn't finished. He drew a line to the rear of the compound from the point he would attack from.

"I see," observed Aoshi, "A pincer movement. Whilst we come in directly from the front, Takezo will approach from behind and we can maneuver to catch our enemies between us."

"Very good Takezo," agreed Okina.

Soujiro and the others nodded. "We will begin at nine tomorrow night," stated Aoshi.

"So that way Matahachi will be caught off guard because we came an hour early," observed Soujiro.

"Correct," agreed Aoshi.

Okina sighed and got to his feet. "Now that that is taken care of," he said, "It is time for you and your friend to get some rest. Tomorrow will be an important day for you and it is important that you are at your best when we begin tomorrow evening."

Aoshi stood up as well. "Follow me," he instructed. He led Soujiro and Takezo to a spare room at the Aoiya. There, they could rest for the night.

"So this is her," observed Matahachi as he glared contemptuously down at Misao's bound and gagged form, "The girl that my bastard cousin's heart belongs to."

"That is what it seemed to me," agreed Ishiro.

"And her capture will bring Soujiro to us?"

"Yes."

"Excellent." Matahachi rubbed his hands together eagerly. "I can't wait to dispose of that whelp," he hissed, "And then," he smiled lewdly down at Misao, "I will make good sport of this one before I send her to join him in Hell." His smile grew. "She certainly looks like she could provide me with a great deal of…entertainment."

Ishiro grimaced slightly. _That man has no shame,_ he thought, disgusted. It would be his pleasure to remove Matahachi's head once this was over. The man was beginning to try his patience.

As two of Matahachi's lesser cronies bore Misao's limp body away, Ishiro prepared to excuse himself for the night. He needed rest after all, if he wanted to be at his best when he fought Soujiro tomorrow night.

"One moment Ishiro," said a cold voice off to Matahachi's left. Ishiro looked over and saw that Kojiro had been there for the entire time. "Are you certain that Soujiro will show up at the time that has been prescribed for the match?"

"No," said Ishiro, levelly, "In fact, I am certain that he will not appear at the appointed time."

"Of course," agreed Matahachi, "Now that we have this Makimachi woman as our captive, we will have undoubtedly made an enemy of the Oniwaban Group as well as my cousin. Undoubtedly, he will enlist their aid. They will make an attempt to approach this mansion in a stealthy manor and try to confront us when we are not ready."

"However," added Ishiro, "They are not likely to be willing to jeopardize our captive's life by being late. Therefore, they will try to strike early. Fortunately for us, that means their window of attack will be small at best as the Oniwaban Group will want to wait until nightfall to begin their attack. Since it is midsummer, night is coming much later than any other time of the year, meaning the margin between nightfall and ten O'clock is very small indeed."

"I see," remarked Kojiro.

"Now, I would like to excuse myself so that I can prepare for tomorrow's battle," said Ishiro, heading for the door.

"As would I," agreed Kojiro.

"You are dismissed then," replied Matahachi. As the other two left, the vengeful man began plotting, wondering how nice Soujiro's head would look on a pike.

Misao slowly opened her eyes. To tell the truth, she had been conscious for a long time now, long enough to hear Matahachi's vile plans for her once he killed Soujiro. However, it certainly wasn't in Misao's best interests to give the man what he truly deserved back there, not with two very strong swordsmen in the room. Those two were extremely dangerous. She could tell from the strength of their presence as neither made an attempt at hiding his swordsman's spirit.

Looking around, Misao took her bearings. She had been placed in a windowless room, probably some kind of storage. Because of that, there was no light to help her. Very carefully, Misao discerned the nature of her bindings. Her hands and feet were bound and her mouth was gagged. The ninja didn't quite understand why they had bothered to gag her, probably so that when Soujiro came her screams wouldn't lead him to her.

Not that Misao had any intention of screaming. Flexing her muscles, she began to test the robes binding her. They were tight, but not as tight as they could be. Not only that, but the ropes holding her arms were tied right at the wrist and behind her back. A normal person might have been unable to do anything about that kind of handicap, but as Misao's actions soon proved, bringing her knees up as high as she could so that she could slip her arms under her feet and up in front of her, escaping that position was not a feat of contortionism that escaped the young ninja.

Using her teeth, Misao pulled at the knot in the rope. Fortunately for her, it was looser than she feared. After a few tries, she finally loosened her bonds enough that she could free her hands without completely untying the knot. Misao wanted the bindings intact later.

Now that her hands were free, Misao was able to check up on her current condition. Carefully, she brought a hand to examine the tender spot on her head where her assailant's sword hilt had connected. It hurt when she touched it and the spot was caked with dry blood, but she would live. As far as Misao could tell, she had no other injuries. After that, Misao lifted up the gag that silenced her.

Checking her pockets, even the hidden ones sown into her sash, Misao smiled. Her captors had at least been smart enough to make sure she didn't have any weapons on her. None of the spare kunai she carried in case of an emergency could be found. But that was just fine with her.

After making sure she was alright, the girl turned her attention to the ropes around her ankles. Like the ones that held her arms, Misao merely loosened the knot, not untied it. After freeing her legs, Misao carefully got to her feet, feeling around and above her with her hands. That way, she wouldn't get any unexpected surprises, like a low ceiling. Fortunately, she appeared to be in a relatively spacious but empty chamber. Next, Misao carefully felt her way over to the nearest wall, where she carefully used her hands to probe all the way around the room until she found the door. She pressed her ear to it and listened for the sounds of any guards that might be outside.

Not hearing anything, Misao carefully slid the door open a crack and looked around the outside as well as her peripheral vision would allow. Confirming that no one was in her immediate line of sight, Misao opened the door a little further and slowly leaned her head out, casting a quick glance to either side, making sure that no one was standing by the door out of her line of sight. Having confirmed that no one was around, Misao made a much more detailed analysis of her surroundings.

Her room appeared to be on one end of a hallway that went about twelve feet before turning sharply to the left. Opening the door a little wider, Misao slipped out and closed it behind her before creeping down the hall and carefully looking around the corner. No one was in sight. Misao's next job was to make sure that she was properly oriented so that she could move quickly when the time came. According to the map of the mansion she had memorized before being captured, she had only to follow the hall and take a right to reach the largest room, which was presumably where Matahachi would confront Soujiro.

Misao followed her own mental instructions. True to her intuition, the room she was looking for was right where it should be. Having confirmed that, Misao scouted back along the way she had come, carefully taking note of all the possible hiding places along her routes, both in case of hidden guards, and for her own use when she made her move.

When Misao returned to her room, she pulled the gag back down over her mouth. She then slipped the bonds around her legs back on and tightened them, but intentionally leaving key points loose so that with a simple jerk, she could free herself from the ropes. She did likewise with her arms, though tying her own hands made the task somewhat cumbersome. That accomplished, Misao slipped her arms back under her legs and behind her, so that she was in the position she had been in when her captors had brought her to this room.

After that, Misao let herself fall asleep. She would have to have all of her strength and fortitude, as well as her wits for the next night if she wanted to help her friends. A year ago, Misao had sworn that the temperamental little girl who had searched fruitlessly far and wide across Japan for the man she loved was gone, in her place was a calm, collected agent of the Oniwaban Group; only when she was on duty, of course.

Saitou took a long drag on his cigarette as he listened to Akemi's report. A small part of him felt pride in the fine agent that the little girl he had rescued all those years ago had become. In many ways, Saitou felt as a proud father should.

Slowly, he exhaled the smoke out from between his lips. It blossomed outward from him and formed a misty gray barrier between him and Akemi. "I see," he said finally, "So Matahachi has made his move then. That means that it is only a matter of time before Soujiro makes his appearance."

Akemi nodded and added, "However, it appears that we will have to deal with the Oniwaban Group as well."

Saitou nodded. "With the Weasel as their captive, Shinomori and his agents will no doubt step into the battle."

"But will they work with Soujiro?" Akemi wanted to know.

"That is indeed a good question. I was wondering myself why Matahachi would take the Weasel, of all people, hostage." He sucked up another lungful of smog and blew it out. "Perhaps she and her friends at the Oniwaban Group have discovered Soujiro's current location and have actually begun some sort of relationship with him. I can see no other reason why Matahachi would have taken someone who would otherwise be so unrelated to the Tenken hostage."

"Should we move to capture Soujiro and Matahachi both when they meet?" asked Akemi, "With us knowing the truth about Matahachi and knowing that Soujiro will come out of hiding soon to confront him, we can easily ensnare them both."

"Yes," agreed Saitou, "If the Weasel truly has some kind of relationship with the Tenken, then when Matahachi's goon took her hostage, he undoubtedly left a semi-formal challenge behind him. That challenge is most likely set to begin tomorrow night at the earliest."

"Why then?" asked Akemi.

"Because he has at least some honor," replied Saitou coldly, "He wants Soujiro to have time to prepare himself for the match, which explains why it will be tomorrow. It will be at night because Matahachi does not want Soujiro to be apprehended while he is en route to their duel. Soujiro will be able to move freely once night falls, so that is why Matahachi will set the time then."

Akemi nodded again. "So what should we do then?"

"_We_ do nothing. I will go in and deal with the situation alone. You will wait around the outside of Matahachi's compound and give pursuit should Soujiro escape." Saitou ground out the lit end of his cigarette in the ashtray on his desk. Akemi nodded, understanding that orders were orders. "Until tomorrow night then," finished Saitou.

The sun rose over the city of Kyoto. It shined cheerily from the horizon. To some, it was the only barrier between them and the chaos to come. For when the sun went from the sky, blades would be drawn and blood shed. So it was in Kyoto.

Seijuro Hiko awoke and was surprised to find himself alone for the first time in years. That of course meant that he had to fix his own breakfast. While he did this, Hiko pondered the goings on. He wasn't sure about Soujiro, but Hiko knew that Takezo wasn't the kind of person to just up and leave with no reason.

Thinking about the two of them, Hiko snorted. They were just like Kenshin, utter blockheads. Deciding that since he had no one to train with that day, Hiko went to work on his pottery, something he had been neglecting in recent weeks. He would find out the truth of the matter when Soujiro and Takezo came back; and he was sure they would.

Soujiro tucked away a considerable amount of food at breakfast. Beside him, Takezo did likewise. The same was true of all the people in the Aoiya that belonged to the Oniwaban Group. Novice fighters might have balked at the idea of eating so much food before an important battle, but experienced warriors knew the importance of staying well nourished.

Kuro came in, balancing another tray of food. "Eat up guys," he said cheerily, "There's plenty more."

Omasu entered the dining room from the front area of the restaurant. "I've closed the Aoiya and posted a notice that it's undergoing repairs," she said calmly, "That'll give us time until tonight."

"Very good," said Okina, "Now sit and eat with the rest of us."

Omasu nodded and joined them at the table.

After breakfast was finished, everyone helped clean up the dishes. That done, they began, each in his or her own way, to prepare for the battle ahead. Despite his best efforts, Soujiro couldn't keep his thoughts off of Misao. How was she supposed to take care of herself if she was being held captive by Matahachi? Most certainly, he would not bother to see that she was fed. She was probably sitting in whatever dark hole that Matahachi had stashed her in, hungry and alone.

Misao was indeed hungry, and she was indeed alone. She was hungry enough that she seriously considered freeing herself again and going off to pilfer a meal. Fortunately, her rational side kept that idea in check. She could hear the sounds of activity outside the room, meaning that it was probably daytime. It also meant that there were people out there who might see her exiting the room. Even more importantly, someone would probably be checking on her in a short period of time.

Even as that thought crossed her mind, the door of the room slid open and a man bearing a tray of food came in. He left the door open behind him and walked across the floor to where Misao had propped herself up against the wall. Misao carefully analyzed him. It was the man who had captured her and brought her to Matahachi. Her eyes slowly drifted to the sword that he wore at his waist.

"Who are you?" she asked as he set the tray down in front of her.

The man reached around behind her and untied her hands. Misao flinched inwardly, realizing that a man of his skill would probably notice that the ropes binding her had been deliberately loosened. As he freed her hands, he didn't answer her question. Instead he said, "Eat. I am certain that you are hungry after last night's incident."

Misao eyed him carefully, wondering if there was some kind of deception. Was the food perhaps poisoned? Perhaps Matahachi or this man who was now in front of her recognized the threat she presented and intended to make sure she didn't cause any trouble during the upcoming fight.

"I can see that you are wondering if there is some duplicity behind this," commented the strange man. He smiled wryly as he took a seat across from her. The man pulled the sword from his sash and set it down beside him. Misao noted that he placed to his left, a sure sign that he recognized the threat she presented, "I can assure you that the food is not poisoned or in any other way harmful. If we wanted to kill you, we would use much more…simplistic means." To emphasize his point, he patted the sword beside him.

Misao nodded. She was now certain that the man was being truthful. She reached down for the chopsticks and began to fill her stomach at a rapid clip. "Who are you?" she asked again between mouthfuls.

"My name is Ishiro," replied the swordsman, "And that is all you need to know regarding my name."

It was enough for Misao. She continued eating. After she was finished, Ishiro picked up the rope he had discarded earlier and retied her arms. Misao knew better than to try anything. If she did, he would cut her down in an instant. And she was waiting until night to make her move.

To her shock, Ishiro tied her hands out in front of her, but even more surprisingly, tied them exactly the way he had found them, with the knots loose so that she could escape easily when the time came. As he stood, bearing the tray with him, Misao could only ask, "Why?"

Ishiro gave her another smile. "I do not doubt that you know what Matahachi intends to do with you when his cousin is dead. That man's lack of any true principal disgusts me. I would rather see you escape back to the Oniwaban Group or perish in battle trying to help your friend. Either way, it doesn't matter to me. But other than giving him Soujiro's head on a platter, I'm not going to give Matahachi anything that he wants. I am even feeling very tempted to take his life myself after this is over."

"Why are you working for Matahachi then if this disgusts you so much?" Misao demanded.

Ishiro's smile widened. "Because of Soujiro," he replied simply.

"Did he do something to you?" Misao wanted to know, "Kill a member of your family, someone you loved?"

Ishiro chuckled softly. That chuckle increased in volume and intensity until it became full laughter that had him doubled over in the doorway. "If only it were that way," he said, after finally catching his breath. He looked back up at Misao. "I have no personal vendetta against Soujiro or anything that he has done. The only reason I work for Matahachi is because I look forward to fighting Soujiro, testing my skill against his skill, my strength against his strength…my Shukuchi against his Shukuchi."

"Shukuchi," Misao said thoughtfully. She had heard that name before, but had never really understood what it was supposed to be.

"Ah," observed Ishiro "I see that you are somewhat unfamiliar with the Shukuchi. I'll give you a little hint. When I struck you down last evening, I approached you with the Shukuchi."

"It's a charging technique?" Misao inquired.

"A good guess," answered Ishiro, "But not quite correct. The Shukuchi is so much more than a simple headstrong charge. It is speed beyond speed. It is a technique that uses unrivaled legwork to bring the target to within reach within an instant. It is a skill that allows one to move fast, yet with such an amazing degree of maneuverability, that one can strike from multiple directions almost simultaneously.

"You have traveled with Himura the Battousai and, as a result, have undoubtedly born witness to his incredible god-like speed. But the Shukuchi is beyond that, so swift that the naked eye cannot even begin to perceive it." Ishiro grinned, showing off a mouth of perfectly white teeth. "That is why I want to do battle against Soujiro. He and I use the same technique of legend. And I wish to see, which of us can truly be called the master of the Shukuchi."

"That's it," demanded Misao, "You mean that you just want to test your skill against Soujiro's. Why don't you just challenge him to a bout in that case? It would be much more honorable."

"A year ago, I had my own ears in the underworld," began Ishiro, "It was then that I heard rumors of an assassin who worked for the insurgent leader, Makoto Shishio; rumors of a young man whose skills rivaled those of the legendary Hitokiri Battousai. They were tales of a smiling killer who could vanish in a burst of speed so abruptly that none had time to react before the killing blow was struck.

"Not much later, I heard news of Shishio's defeat at the hands of the Battousai, and then rumors of Shishio's greatest soldier wandering around, a broken man with a broken blade." Ishiro's head sagged. "I almost lost myself in my disappointment. I had so hoped for a battle with the great swordsman, Soujiro Seta, only to hear that he now had little or no intention of ever killing again. Simply walking up and asking for a match between him and me would have gotten me only half a fight at best, against half a man. But, with you as our captive and knowing that you mean a great deal to little Soujiro, means that it is now conceivable to bring out the great killer that Soujiro Seta once was, the man they called the Tenken." Ishiro walked out and began to close the door behind him. "That is why I have done all this." The door slid shut and Misao was once again in darkness.

It was rather late when night finally fell over Kyoto. In the gathering darkness, Soujiro, Takezo and the Oniwaban Group prepared for battle. Matahachi's estate faced inwards towards the city, with the street running in front of the main gate. Soujiro and Aoshi waited on the southwestern corner while the others got into position. At a silent signal from Aoshi, the four other Oniwaban members from the Aoiya went over the wall. Several muffled thuds came from the other side, along with a few muted groans, nothing that would carry across the grounds.

In a flash, they were back over the wall and heading north to the next corner, which was where they would start their main attack. Now it was Aoshi and Soujiro's turn to go in.

The two went over the walls as quickly as they could, dropping down among the bodies of five separate guards. Most of their weapons were still in their sheaths as the sentinels had not gotten a chance to draw them before they were hit.

Aoshi used his hand to motion Soujiro forward. Together, they made their way along the hedges, careful to keep on the northern side of the low bushes, knowing that once the attention caused by the main attack was directed that way, they would have been easily spotted on the south side of the hedges. About halfway to the manor, Aoshi stopped and crouched down as low as he could. Soujiro followed suit.

They were so intent on their purpose, that of not being discovered, that they did not notice the shadow that slipped over the wall behind them.

The wait lasted for about eight minutes. At that time, a loud thud echoed across the estate's grounds. A whistle sounded from the northwestern corner. Guards poured out across the grounds, heading towards that small piece of ground. But that whistle was soon answered by a second, this one coming from the northeast corner. Takezo had obviously gone to work over there. The guards quickly divided themselves, each heading off in the direction that would get him to a fight the fastest.

Their way now cleared, Aoshi and Soujiro broke from their concealment and sprinted for the front door. Soujiro knew better than to try and use the Shukuchi. It might have been fast, but it was loud and would announce their presence to Matahachi and his men like nothing else.

The two men made it to the door without incident. Quickly Aoshi opened it slightly and they both slipped inside, closing it behind them. Had either of them even noticed the shadow behind them, they would have realized that their pursuer had not followed them to the door. All the better for him in any case. A miniscule light flared in the darkness beside the hedges. The dim orange glow from a lit cigarette only barely revealed a slight smirk and two diamond-shaped amber eyes.

The front door opened into a large atrium. The hallway was much wider than the door suggested and the ceiling rose high above the heads of the two swordsmen. In front of them, the hall ended a fair ways down. There, two broad stairways covered with green carpeting rose up to a second story. Between the feet of the two stairways was a single double door. According to map that Aoshi had acquired, beyond that door was a wide, symmetrical room, the place they were most likely to encounter Matahachi.

The atrium itself was empty. There were no people, no decorations, and no furniture. It was completely bare. Aoshi's keen mind realized that adding decoration would have been stretching Matahachi's funds to the limit. It hardly mattered though. The only thing that truly did matter was the door in front of them and the battle that waited on the other side.

Shinomori strode forward. "Come," he beckoned, urging Soujiro to come with him. Soujiro nodded silently and walked alongside Aoshi as they approached the massive doorway. As one, the two of them placed their hands against the separate panels and pushed, opening the door to reveal the room beyond.

Soujiro was sorely reminded of the room where he had fought his duel with Himura. However, this room was much larger than the Room Without Space. The ceiling in here was as high as the ceiling of the atrium. Faint moonlight filtered in from the windows that lined the wall where it met the ceiling. On either corner, there was a torch. Candles had been placed in various other locations around the room, in places where they would be out of the way.

And there, on the far side of the room sat Matahachi. He was seated lazily on a cushion, his sword on the floor to his left. In his hand he held a single cup of sake. A jug sat on his right. Matahachi sneered when his eyes fell upon Soujiro.

"Welcome cousin," he said condescendingly, "I'm glad to see that you value the life of that harlot so much."

Soujiro was nearly knocked over by the wave of palpable anger that came rolling out of the normally stoic Aoshi Shinomori. He could understand Aoshi's frustration easily. Soujiro wanted to go and behead Matahachi himself, but doing so would have been suicidal.

Kneeling on either side of Matahachi were two swordsmen. Soujiro could gauge the level of their skills quite well considering the strength of their respective spirits. And these two were incredibly strong. The man who sat on Matahachi's right caught his attention quickly. That man was staring intently at Soujiro, his gaze marked with determination and a will to succeed.

"It is in this room that I will finally have justice for the lives you have taken whelp," continued Matahachi, "But rather than dirty my hands with the likes of you, I will let someone more adequate handle your execution."

He turned to regard Aoshi for the first time. "And you," he said evenly, "Must be Aoshi Shinomori. I am sure that you are agitated by the abduction of one of your people. But she deserves no less for associating with this ingrate bastard."

Aoshi strode forward, revealing the long sheath he held tucked under his arm. "The time for talk has passed," he said coldly, "Action is the only conversation we will have now." Slowly, he grabbed either end of the weapon with his hands and withdrew the two kodachi from their sheath.

"Indeed," agreed the man who had been scrutinizing Soujiro, "Let us begin." He stood and strode deliberately towards Soujiro drawing his sword in the process. He leveled it so that it pointed straight at the young man. "The time has come, Tenken, for you to meet your peer."

With that, the man tapped his foot against the ground once, and once only. He vanished in a cloud of splinters and flying dust as the floor crumbled under his strides. The only sign of his passing was a trail of destruction that was making a beeline for Soujiro.

Takezo had dropped down from the wall right into the middle of a group of guards. He deliberately slowed his attack to allow one of them to sound the alarm and bring more defenders running. The more he could attract away from the other end of the compound, the easier it would be for Soujiro and Aoshi to enter the mansion undetected.

Once he believed that he had their attention, Takezo held nothing back. His sword flashed through the night, leaving streaks of the light that reflected off its well polished blade. The swordsman's movements were fluid and swift as he flowed from attack to evasion and back to attack.

One of the fundamental lessons that Master Hiko had taught him about the Hiten Mitsurugi style was that it would be more efficient in the long run to evade an enemy's attack than parry it. Parrying required more strength than the subtle shift of weight that allowed him to dodge enemy strikes with the narrowest of margins. In addition, evading a strike left Takezo in a better position to counterattack. A foe committing himself to an attack often leaves himself open when he misses, with his weapon in the most inopportune position to defend himself from the inevitable retaliatory strike. That was one of the reasons the god-like speed of the Hiten Mitsurugi style was such a crucial aspect.

Ducking under the swing of another sword, Takezo brought his own sword in an upward sweeping strike that smashed the sword into his foe's chin, knocking the unfortunate man off his feet and into the mercenary behind him. Takezo moved his left hand to grip the handle near the pommel. As he did so, his next enemy came at him with an overhead slash. Takezo allowed the momentum of his initial swing, which had been up and to the left, to feed him directly into a perfectly executed sidestep. The enemy's sword cleaved through thin air. Takezo turned his sidestep into a spin. As he spun he released the sword with his right hand and allowed his left arm, hand holding the sword, to come about in a backhanded slash that struck his enemy behind the neck in a perfectly executed Ryu-Kan-Sen. The force of the blow was enough to send the man flying into the ally in front of him, knocking them both to the ground and out of the fight.

The battle continued. Not a single one of the guards' attacks touched Takezo, who wove among them like a phantom, striking at will. Though it seemed like an eternity, the fight was over in less than two minutes. Casting a quick glance around to make sure that he had eliminated all of the guards, Takezo headed for the back door of the house.

Outside her room, Misao could hear the faint sounds of battle. Apparently the others had come to rescue her. Counting that, Misao knew that the time had come to make her move.

Pulling her arms apart, Misao easily loosened the ropes around her wrists and slipped free of them. It was then a simple matter to remove the cords that tied her legs together. That taken care of, Misao, working out of memory from what she had learned of the room's layout from last night, went to the door and put her ear to it. On the other side, she could hear the faint sounds of two guards talking nervously.

Misao knew that she had to act fast. She needed to take out the two henchmen quickly and quietly, before they could get off a warning to their fellow men. Carefully, Misao slid the door open the tiniest bit so that she knew to the best of her abilities the exact location of the two men guarding the door. As she had hoped, their backs were to the door and neither had noticed the fact that it had opened slightly. That, of course, was to Misao's advantage.

Misao's plan started with the man on her right. She sighed inwardly, realizing that this plan was something along the lines of what the Misao of the old days would do. Unable to hesitate any longer, Misao threw the door open all the way. Moving as quickly as she could, she struck the man on her right with a knife hand right to the windpipe. That disabled him neatly. Grabbing a handful of the now falling man's kimono, Misao pivoted and used all of her weight to throw his body at the other guard. Before that guy could react, he was clobbered by the improvised missile that had been his comrade. That knocked him off guard enough for Misao to finish them both with some swift, well placed blows.

Standing over the two unconscious men, Misao smiled at her handiwork. The old method had its uses after all. To make sure that no one caught onto her escape right away, Misao pulled the two unconscious men into the room that, until recently, had been her prison. Before leaving them in there, Misao searched them for anything that could prove useful. She was lucky enough to find a couple of daggers hooked to the belt of one of the guards. They weren't as well balanced as her favorite kunai, but they would serve in a moment of desperation.

Satisfied with what she had done, Misao left the two guards in the room they had been guarding and slid the door shut. Anyone who spotted the door would at first think that the guards had abandoned their post for some reason or another. That would buy her some time. Now able to move about freely, Misao made her way towards the room where the main battle was taking place.

Soujiro's body reacted before his mind came to grips with what was happening. As if it acted of its own volition, Soujiro's sword flew from its sheath to perfectly parry his opponent's first attack. Steel rang out against steel as the other man's sword seemed to just bounce off of Soujiro's. The man leapt back a few paces and stood ready for another attack.

Soujiro carefully sized up his adversary. "I believe it is impolite to initiate a duel without first announcing yourself," he said calmly, trying to buy more time to study his enemy than anything else. He was sure of it. That had been the Shukuchi. Well, actually it was two steps short of it. But Soujiro realized that if this man wanted to, he could use true Shukuchi.

"Forgive my rudeness," replied the man, "I am Ishiro. I have been eagerly awaiting this fight, Soujiro the Tenken."

Soujiro calmly rested the back of his sword against his shoulder. Tapping his foot against the ground, he said in response, "I no longer hold any connection to that title."

The man glanced down at Soujiro's foot and chuckled. "Don't you think you're being a little overdramatic Tenken?" he asked, "There's no need to build the suspense with that incessant noisemaking." With that, the man pushed of the ground. As his foot touched down, he vanished and came at Soujiro, this time with one step speed.

One does not think when facing the Shukuchi, that is if one does not want to lose his head or some other vital part of his body. Soujiro relied on his newly honed ability to read his opponent's emotions and predict Ishiro's next move. Quickly, the young man pulled the sword back over his head, where it intercepted a lateral slash aimed at his backside. Even as the swords parted, Soujiro was already moving again. Shifting his weight to the right, he brought his sword in an upward sweeping parry on his left flank that neatly picked off the next attack. Twisting to face the direction the attack had come from; Soujiro backpedaled, his blade perfectly blocking a series of three attacks in succession that came in at varying angles. Even as he did this, he heard the wall to his left implode. Again the sword came around. This time, Soujiro gripped the handle with his left hand while bracing the back of the blade with his right. With this, he was able to stop the powerful airborne attack Ishiro had attempted to use against him by launching himself from the wall.

Ishiro touched down and again leapt away. Smiling eagerly, the man regarded Soujiro with renewed respect. "I am surprised that you were so apt at defending yourself from such an attack," he admitted, "You are truly worthy of your title."

Soujiro did not respond. His mind was racing, trying to figure out what to do. As long as Ishiro continued to attack before Soujiro could bring his own Shukuchi into play, Soujiro would be at a disadvantage. As long as Ishiro used the Shukuchi when Soujiro could not, Soujiro would be forever on the defensive and unable to launch a counterattack. _What to do?_ he wondered.

At a loss for anything else, Soujiro began to tap again. Ishiro raised an eyebrow. When he spoke, his voice was quite irritable. "I thought I told you to lose the theatrics Tenken," he hissed.

Brooking no argument from Soujiro, Ishiro vanished yet again with the Shukuchi. This time, the rapid pattering of feet raced up the wall and out onto the ceiling. Ishiro descended on Soujiro like a tone of bricks. But the boy was more than ready for the attack.

Aoshi had been watching the exchange with interest. Soujiro Seta was indeed an excellent swordsman. And now that he had a chance to see the young man's skill for himself, Aoshi could appreciate how Soujiro had earned his position as Shishio's right-hand man. But nonetheless, the Leader of the Oniwaban Group had not come to watch his ally fight. He had come to save Misao and to ensure that the threat that was Matahachi Seta was eliminated; though Aoshi was certain that Misao was taking care of the former herself.

Thus, it came down to whether or not he would help Soujiro with his fight, or face off against Matahachi and the other man. Looking at the other man, Aoshi was certain that he was a swordsman of some considerable skill. Ignoring the battle going on almost right next to him, Aoshi strode purposefully towards the other end of the room. The second man stood up to face him.

"I have heard the strength of the guardians of Edo Castle," he proclaimed, "But if you are the last of their number, then perhaps you are not as strong as I once thought."

"And you are?" inquired Aoshi.

"You may address me as Kojiro," replied the swordsman. Drawing his sword, Kojiro discarded the sheath and took up a very familiar stance, the Gatotsu.

Aoshi brought his two kodachi up in front of him and held them crossed with the longer right-handed one in front of the other. "Let's begin," he said. His body blurred as he charged fluidly towards his target.

Kojiro did not stand idle as Aoshi hurtled at him. Pushing off, Kojiro launched himself at Aoshi, sword held at ready. As they closed within striking distance, Kojiro thrust forward with his sword, hoping to impale Aoshi with it. However, Aoshi was not one to be caught so easily.

Holding the blades of his kodachi flat against each other, Aoshi brought them up and caught Kojiro's sword between them. That alone would not have been enough to stop the attack, but Aoshi wasn't done. Even as he intercepted Kojiro's blade, Aoshi lifted it up with his own swords and pivoted so that he turned to the left while sliding his body to the right. He dropped his right kodachi away from the sword and made a complete turn while keeping the left blade against the sword for as long as possible. Aoshi was now too close to Kojiro to actually cut him with the longer, right-handed kodachi. So instead he slammed his elbow into the man's midriff with enough force to send Kojiro stumbling away. But Kojiro wasn't finished yet. Even as he stumbled, he brought his sword around, trying to cut at Aoshi's back. Aoshi's response was to reverse the grip of his right kodachi and use it to block the attack.

Kojiro halted his stumble and reassumed the Gatotsu stance. Aoshi's response was to charge again. Kojiro watched him closely, wondering if Aoshi hoped to catch him off guard by attacking before Kojiro could begin his own charge. Aoshi was now too close for Kojiro to lunge, so instead he simply thrust forward. For the briefest instant, Kojiro was certain that he had hit Aoshi Shinomori. But he was surprised to find that his blade met no resistance as it slid into where Aoshi was supposed to be in front of him. His surprise turned to dismay as he realized that Aoshi was no longer there. Catching a glimpse of movement to his right, Kojiro turned and swung his extended arm. As he had thought, Aoshi was there. But seemed to become transparent and vanished completely even as Kojiro's sword met him. As far as Kojiro could tell, Aoshi was still moving to the right, so if he turned further. This time there was nothing.

Kojiro was beginning to feel the icy feeling of panic running through him. Turning around yet again, Kojiro saw Aoshi appear then vanish again almost as quickly as he came, leaving behind a blurred afterimage that vanished as well. Kojiro snarled in frustration. Where was he?

Soujiro managed halt Ishiro's attacks for the second time. Coming to a halt, Ishiro stared at Soujiro, frustrated. "Why aren't you using Shukuchi?" he demanded, "Why are you simply standing there. This is a duel of masters of the Shukuchi. I want to face an opponent who uses the same technique."

Soujiro shrugged. "I'd like to," he said, "But I'm afraid I haven't had a chance to use it yet."

"What do you mean?" Ishiro wanted to know, "I've given you more than ample chance to…" his voice trailed off as he realized what Soujiro meant. A whole range of expressions crossed his face then, anger, disappointment, disgust, amusement. Finally, Ishiro halted with a face that was something between disgusted and amused. "You mean that you still have to tap?" he marveled, pointing at Soujiro with his sword, "You mean you weren't showing off, that you really have to tap in order to use the Shukuchi." Ishiro gave a harsh barking laugh. "I can't believe that a man like you could have ever been called the Tenken. If you still have to tap to use the Shukuchi, then you have no right to call yourself a master of it."

"I never did claim to be a master of Shukuchi," replied Soujiro, "And I didn't know that it was possible to have the rhythm down without tapping."

"A true master knows the rhythm of Shukuchi as he knows himself," said Ishiro. He tapped his foot on the ground at exactly the right rhythm without having to measure it out. "A true master breathes in the rhythm of the Shukuchi. His heart beats that rhythm on a constant basis. A true master never forgets the tempo of Shukuchi."

Soujiro just shrugged again. "I'm afraid I never had a chance to master that to such an extent." He began to tap his foot against the floor. This time, Ishiro allowed him. Even as he pushed off of the ground, Soujiro said, "But I certainly know how to use it."

He vanished in an instant, using the true Shukuchi. True Shukuchi was very different from any of its lesser forms. If anyone had studied the difference between the Shukuchi and its lesser forms, they would have noticed something interesting. As the Shukuchi technique is used, each footfall impacts the ground with tremendous force, smashing apart whatever happens to be there. But the closer the user gets to true Shukuchi, the shallower the impact crater gets. At true Shukuchi, the user's feet impact and leave the ground with such speed, that there is no time for the energy of the footfall to be transferred into the ground, meaning that true Shukuchi leaves no such trail of destruction in its wake.

Ishiro knew this well enough and vanished as well. While there were no longer any exploding floorboards, the sound of their footsteps could be heard constantly.

As they raced across the room, they came together for brief instants. They rarely ever got off more than one strike. And so it continued. They came together, parted and came together again at a different point. The fight was carried out rather awkwardly as they were almost always meeting at odd angles where an exchange between the two of them became difficult. Sometimes they met around or among the other pair of dueling men in the room, but they were always so swift that they were gone before the others realized their presence. So intent were the combatants on their respective adversaries that they hardly noticed one another's battles in the midst of their own.

Soujiro attempted to get an edge on Ishiro by running up the wall. While on the wall, he met Ishiro coming from the other direction. Soujiro brought his sword in at neck height. His attack would have beheaded Ishiro had the man not been holding his own sword vertically in front of him, blocking the attack. Even as they passed one another, Ishiro turned around and began to pursue Soujiro on the wall. Soujiro had no intent of allowing that, so he turned and began to run straight up the wall.

When Soujiro reached the top of the room, he ran out onto the ceiling and pushed off to come flying at where Ishiro was following his path. An explosion of wood and dust appeared where Soujiro kicked off. His attack was perfectly calculated and Soujiro was now coming at Ishiro from overhead, at least from Ishiro's orientation. Ishiro was not one to be caught off guard though. He raised his sword above his head and braced the back of the blade with his left hand. The extra leverage was needed as Soujiro impacted with terrific force. Time seemed to freeze as the force of Soujiro's strike drove Ishiro's feet into the wall, splintering the wood. But Ishiro was able to fend off the attack. Using every ounce of strength he possessed. Ishiro pushed back, the reacting force pushing him further into the wall. Soujiro, having no such leverage and having spent the momentum of his attack, was quite easily forced back. Using his sword as a lever, Soujiro forced himself away from Ishiro and out into the air a fair distance above the floor of the room.

An instant later, Ishiro pushed off of the wall and leapt at Soujiro in the same manner that Soujiro had at first attacked him. Their blades connected as Soujiro parried the attack. Both combatants fell towards the floor below. As they did so, the hacked at one another, trading mastery of the Shukuchi for mastery of sword technique as they slashed, thrust, and parried their way to ground. When they landed, the two of them clashed their blades together one last time before leaping apart.

Ishiro's face was coated with sweat, but he looked well otherwise. Soujiro, on the other hand was both sweating profusely and panting slightly.

"You look somewhat fatigued Soujiro," commented Ishiro, smiling broadly, "I must admit, for someone who still has to tap, your skill in using the Shukuchi is impeccable."

"Thank you, sir," replied Soujiro between breaths.

"But I must say that what you make up for in skill, you lack in endurance," Ishiro pointed out, "The longer our battle continues, the more to my advantage it will be. I can obviously outlast you when it comes to using the Shukuchi over an extended period of time."

"That is true," agreed Soujiro. Now he was unsure of what he should do. _If I don't end this fight soon, my death is assured,_ he thought.

Kojiro was growing tired of chasing shadows. Every attack he had launched thus far had met nothing but air. Aoshi seemed to fade in and out of view like some kind of phantom, appearing behind, beside, and in front of Kojiro. There seemed to be no way he could catch Aoshi. And if Shinomori launched an attack, Kojiro would most likely be caught completely off guard.

Aoshi appeared again in front of him. It was then that Kojiro got an idea. Instead of wasting time trying to kill what he couldn't, he would study Aoshi's movements and determine the weakness of his method. So instead of attacking, Kojiro carefully observed Aoshi's form as he faded out of sight again.

"Have you given up Kojiro?" Aoshi asked, not stopping, "There is no way you can defeat my Jissen-Kenbu."

_So that's what it is called,_ thought Kojiro. He watched as Aoshi again appeared and vanished. Then he began to understand. Kojiro realized that there perhaps was a way to defeat Aoshi's technique, but his time would have to precise. Kojiro couldn't afford to let his guard down for an instant.

Aoshi used Jissen-Kenbu by moving with perfect fluidity and constantly varying speed. Whenever he slowed down was when his blurred image appeared, only to vanish again as Aoshi sped up just as quickly. As a result, it gave Aoshi's form a somewhat insubstantial nature and made his actual location impossible to determine as he circled around his victim. But, in order to use Jissen-Kenbu, Aoshi had to maintain a high center of gravity. A high center of gravity was important because it enabled him to change both speed and direction with the slightest shift of his weight. But if he tried to launch an attack from that position, it would have no power. In order to attack, Aoshi would have to lower his center of gravity so that he could put his body into his strike, meaning that before he attacked, Aoshi would first have stop using Jissen-Kenbu, creating a brief moment where he would be between stances and completely off guard.

All Kojiro had to do was wait until Aoshi switched from offense to defense and victory would be his. Having figured that out, it was now only a matter of figuring out where Aoshi would attack from. He had to logically assume that the only place Aoshi would not attack from would be from directly in front of Kojiro. But that still left the Leader with plenty of options. The only thing Kojiro could do was wait and try to react quickly enough when Aoshi did attack.

Kojiro watched and remained motionless as Aoshi continued to flit about him without pause. Abruptly, Aoshi appeared on Kojiro's left again, but this time his image was solid and clear. Kojiro knew at that moment as Aoshi stepped to keep his feet further apart that this was the moment he had been waiting for. Without hesitation, Kojiro leapt into the air…

…Just in time to avoid a storm of six attacks accompanied by Aoshi's announcement. "Kaiten-Kenbu-Rokuren!" All six attacks came at the same time and would have been unstoppable had Kojiro actually been there to receive them. But Kojiro was now above Aoshi's head. Kojiro watched with satisfaction as Aoshi stumbled through the empty space and now presented his enemy with his back. Kojiro nearly laughed out loud. This was the perfect opportunity.

"And now you die Aoshi!" yelled Kojiro gleefully, "Gatotsu Second Stance!" Kojiro plunged downward, his sword leading. He thrust just as he came into reach. The blade pierced the back of Aoshi's coat and cut through with ease. Kojiro laughed triumphantly as his attack struck home.

Matahachi smiled eagerly as he watched Kojiro plummet towards Shinomori. With that man out of the way, finishing off Matahachi's bastard cousin would be a simple matter. Looking over, Matahachi let a feral grin spread across his face when he noticed that Soujiro was looking much more tired than Ishiro. His servant was doing his job perfectly.

Matahachi sighed contentedly and poured himself another cup of sake, a victory drink to wash down the sweet taste of revenge.

Soujiro gathered his wits as he regarded Ishiro. Right now, Ishiro held a considerable advantage. Not only could he use the Shukuchi without any hesitation, but he could also use it for a much greater amount of time than Soujiro could. The young man was worried. How could he possibly win against an opponent who could outlast him so easily?

The answer seemed simple. He had to end this battle…now! But how could he do that? Then, the answer hit him and Soujiro knew what he had to do.

Soujiro remembered what Mr. Shishio had once told him about Mr. Himura. "_Himura the Battousai may have given up slaying others,_" he said half scornfully, "_But no matter what he does, what kind of changes he makes, what kind of sword he takes up, there is nothing he can do to eliminate the spirit of the legendary manslayer that lives within him._" Shishio laughed at that thought. "_When someone locks away a part of themselves, they have to make a door for it to go through. With that door comes a lock and key. The key is always some kind of emotion that characterizes the aspect of the personality that that man has locked away. In the Battousai's case, that key is anger. Make Himura the Wanderer angry enough and the door to Battousai the Manslayer will swing wide open._"

If what Mr. Shishio had said was true, then Soujiro had to find that emotional trigger that would return him to _his_ former self, the Tenken. Almost instantly, Soujiro knew exactly what emotion that had to be. The Tenken had been born that night the unspeakable fear of death welled up in Soujiro so much that he struck down his own family while smiling in terror (quite the oxymoron, no). Fear of death was what would bring out the Tenken that he had sealed away inside of himself.

But despite himself, Soujiro could not find that fear. He no longer feared death in the same way that he used to. Killing a great many people had changed that.

"I must say that fighting you has been a great privilege and honor, Tenken," announced Ishiro, "But the time has come for me to fulfill my contract with your cousin and for you to die." With that, he vanished. Soujiro knew that he had an instant left to live.

When the realization hit him, Soujiro thought mournfully about the new life he had been building for himself, of the friendships he had made with Takezo and Misao, of his relationship with his new master, a man who understood him better than anyone else ever had, and of the hopeful future that had been before him. And Soujiro knew that he didn't want to die.

Even as his blade was descending to make the final blow, Ishiro reversed his rhythm and stopped, leaping back away from Soujiro almost as quickly. Ishiro was rendered speechless by his shock. What had happened to the young man he had been fighting. All of a sudden, Soujiro's presence had completely vanished. True, he was standing there right in front of Ishiro. But he wasn't _there_ there. All traces of emotion and fighting spirit had erased themselves from Soujiro's being; leaving in their wake a void that took on the illusion of a young man with a sword. Soujiro's eyes were obscured by the strands of hair that hung down over his face. But the small smile that he wore was completely visible.

After a moment, Soujiro looked up to regard Ishiro. Now both his eyes and lips were smiling. But it wasn't the savage smile of someone who liked killing. Even though Ishiro hadn't expected that kind of a smile from a man like Soujiro, he wasn't expecting the one he got either. He had been expecting a hollow, empty smile that didn't reach the young man's eyes. But the expression on the Tenken's face seemed nothing short of…radiant. It was an innocent look, the beaming face of someone who saw a general pleasantness in all that he did.

Ishiro gulped nervously. _So this is the infamous Tenken,_ he thought. The young man truly was an unnerving sight to behold.

Soujiro swished his sword back before lifting it up and sliding it back into its sheath. His expression didn't change in the slightest. Then, he turned so that his right shoulder was facing Ishiro. Looking over that shoulder, Soujiro went into the classic stance for the sword-drawing technique. The one main difference was that his hand was a little low to provide balance for the charge to come.

"Battoujutsu," mumbled a horrified Ishiro. He knew exactly what was about to come next. No doubt, Soujiro planned on combining a charge using the Shukuchi with the already awesome speed of the Battoujutsu technique. It would be an attack that would kill instantly.

"I see that you have a pretty good idea of what I'm about to do," observed the still smiling Soujiro, "That's good." He let out a childish laugh, almost as if this were a game and the sword in his hand a mere toy. "You surprised me a little in the beginning. You see, when I worked for Mr. Shishio, the Shukuchi was my special trump card that I used against difficult opponents. No one except Mr. Shishio knew of its existence. To the other members of the Juppongatana, it was simply hearsay, a rumor. Everyone else who had seen it was dead. But you somehow knew that I could use Shukuchi. But at the same time you overlooked my Battoujutsu which I was better known for because it rivaled that of the Hitokiri Battousai. But now it's time for me to make the two one and introduce you to my favorite technique, the only one that I ever named, the Shuntensatsu."

Ishiro gulped again and found that his mouth had gone dry from fear. He took a step back from the Tenken. There was no denying it. Ishiro was about to die.

Kojiro's laugh of triumph turned into a cry of dismay as Aoshi's trench coat collapsed limply, folding itself over on the blade of his sword. Now Kojiro understood. Aoshi had purposefully shown Kojiro his back and then used his billowing, coat like a blind. While Ishiro's attention had been focused on the brown leather item of clothing, Aoshi had slipped out of it and out of the way of the attack.

Kojiro now realized how badly he had been tricked. With his blade weighed down as it was, there was by the thick coat, there was no way that he could avoid or block Aoshi's next attack. Furthermore, because his vision had been obscured by the coat, Kojiro had no idea which way Aoshi had gone and therefore, which direction he would attack from. Lacking any other idea, Kojiro guessed as best he could and swung his sword to the right, putting his whole body into the swing so that the coat went flying off the end of the sword. Luckily for Kojiro, he had guessed correctly and Shinomori was indeed coming from his right. Even as the coat billowed outwards to catch Aoshi in its folds, his two kodachi flashed and cut it to ribbons. Aoshi plowed through the cloud of shreds he had created and charged for Kojiro, despite the fact that he had lost the element of surprise.

Kojiro grabbed the hilt of his sword with both hands and brought the blade into a high guard position angled down and to his right to catch the incoming blade of Aoshi's left kodachi. Too late, Kojiro saw the trap that Aoshi had lain out for him. "Double Kodachi style; Onmyou Kousa!" With that, Aoshi brought his right Kodachi down on the back of his left like a hammer against a nail. The force drove the left kodachi through Kojiro's sword, snapping the blade in two.

Kojiro leapt backwards and stared, horrified at the cleanly broken remnant of his favorite blade. He began to shake when he realized that this was a pronouncement of his doom. He was about to die by the hand of Aoshi Shinomori, Leader of the Oniwaban Group. He had seen the skills of the great man first hand and understood how that man had risen to such an illustrious position within his organization.

"It's over," said Aoshi simply.

"It's over," announced Soujiro. He grinned good-naturedly at Ishiro. "Don't worry," he added, "I promise this won't hurt at all."

Soujiro had risen up onto the balls of his feet. He stared at Ishiro with the same innocent gaze that he always seemed to wear when he was ready to kill. Then, Soujiro crouched down slightly, bending his knees a little further and lowering his heels almost all the way to the floor. Inside, his muscles were coiling like springs, building power for the awesome burst of speed to come.

"Here I go," he announced cheerfully. Ishiro only managed to catch a glimpse of Soujiro's legs going off like twin pistons before the boy vanished before his eyes. Even as Soujiro had been tensing for his attack, Ishiro had been about to kick off and use the Shukuchi to dodge the attack. And he would have made it to, if Soujiro had been moving at Shukuchi speed.

The door behind Matahachi burst off of its hinges and Misao rushed into the room just in time to catch the final instant of the battle.

Behind Ishiro, Soujiro reversed his legwork so abruptly that it ripped apart the floor, creating a trench along the path Soujiro used to slow himself down. His sword was drawn. When Soujiro came to a halt, he looked behind him at the cloud of dust he had raised in his sudden deceleration. For a moment, he couldn't see through it. When the dust began to clear, Soujiro could make out the motionless form of Ishiro. The man was still standing. But he seemed frozen and unable to move. Finally, the man turned to look at Soujiro. "That wasn't Shukuchi," he said. Then, blood spurted out from the razor-thin cut in the man's abdomen. Ishiro's upper body toppled over backwards while his lower half fell forwards.

Soujiro just stood there, smiling. Then, the sound of someone's horrified gasp reached his ears. Turning, Soujiro saw her there, standing behind Matahachi. The stunned look on Misao's face wrenched Soujiro free from the Tenken's grip and brought him thundering back into reality. The smile vanished and the full weight of what he had done settled onto Soujiro's shoulders. Shocked beyond all expression, Soujiro's legs gave out beneath him and he fell to his knees, too stunned to do anything else. His nerveless hand released the sword, letting it clatter to the ground.

Nearby, Aoshi had been watching Soujiro's finishing strike. He was less than sympathetic towards Ishiro, but he was unnerved by how much Soujiro reminded Aoshi of himself. Aoshi was so fixated on the spectacle that he did not see Kojiro turn and flee.

A second clatter sounded in the room. Matahachi's enraged scream brought Aoshi back to the matter at hand. "COME BACK YOU COWARD!" roared Matahachi at the retreating Kojiro's back. Kojiro paid Matahachi's cry no heed as he rushed out the doors, leaving the broken sword behind.

"Now there is only you," intoned Aoshi grimly, as he strode purposefully towards Matahachi.

Matahachi was shaking with rage as he reached for his sword. He got to his feet. "You're mine," hissed a blood chilling voice behind him. Looking over his shoulder, Matahachi spied a very angry looking Misao, who had momentarily forgotten about Soujiro at the sight of the man who had caused them all so much trouble that night. Matahachi saw the malicious intent on the young ninja's face and couldn't help but gulp.

Kojiro rushed through the atrium and burst through the front doors. What he saw outside froze him in his tracks.

"Greetings," said Hajime Saitou, casually tossing the still smoldering cigarette over his shoulder as he faced his former apprentice, "It has been quite a while Kojiro."

Author's Notes: This chapter was fun to write. More than a few authors (including myself) have put Soujiro in a Shukuchi vs. Shukuchi situation. I hope that mine is at least a little bit different from the others.

About Saitou: When I first started writing this fic, I had not yet seen the entire Kyoto Arc all the way through. This was due to the fact that I was out of town at one time and missed a considerable number of important episodes. It wasn't until I collected the DVDs that I really got a chance to get a better look at the character of Hajime Saitou. When I began work on this story, I pretty much thought that Saitou was a pretty bad guy, plain and simple. Sure, he may work with the good guys once and a while, but there's no mistaking who the real heroes are. But the more times I watched the series through, the more enamored to Saitou's character I became. In fact, he's become one of my favorite characters after Soujiro. There's just something about that _I'm gonna do my job, no matter what anyone else thinks_ attitude that's quite appealing.

About Aoshi: The way I see, Aoshi has two "Sword Dance" techniques that he uses in the series. The first, "Jissen-Kenbu" is the technique he uses against Kenshin in their first fight. The second, "Ryusui" is the one he uses against Okina and Shishio. As far as I can tell, these are two different techniques that work very differently.

About Akemi: For this and the next chapter at least, Akemi is pretty much going to be a background character in this story. Don't worry; she's going to have a much larger role to play later on.


	6. The Long Expected Duel: The Wolf's Fang ...

Disclaimer: See Prologue

Author's Note: Finally, the latest chapter in my story. This one features a fight between Saitou and Soujiro. The outcome may be a little different from what you expect.

**Chapter 6: The Long Expected Duel: The Wolf's Fang Pierces the Void**

Matahachi glared at the girl who had entered through the back of the room. Misao Makimachi faced him defiantly, ready for a fight. Behind the man, Soujiro Seta rested on his knees, seemingly oblivious to the events unfolding in front of him. Off to one side of the room, Aoshi Shinomori stood calmly, watching their every move.

Matahachi tightened his grip on the handle of his saber and slowly drew it from its sheath. He was a skilled swordsman and far be it for some woman who didn't have a single weapon to be able to defeat him.

Misao's eyes carefully followed Matahachi's blade as it flowed from its sheath. She tensed, her hand inching towards the pilfered knife she had stashed in her sash behind her back.

"Misao." Aoshi's abrupt, verbal intervention halted both combatants. Misao shifted her glance slightly in his direction, careful to keep one eye on Matahachi. She half expected Aoshi to order to stand down so that he could deal with this himself. She was shocked to see a whirling Kodachi hurling at her. Remembering her training, Misao caught the weapon by its handle in her right hand without getting so much as a single cut. "Take care of yourself," Aoshi finished.

Misao smiled at him. Matahachi lunged forward to attack her, his blade coming in from overhead. Misao raised the Kodachi to block the attack. But the strike was a feint. The sword halted a hair's breadth from the Kodachi before Matahachi twisted his wrist to send it arcing around to come at Misao from the side. However, Misao turned her wrist and easily blocked the strike.

Matahachi twisted his wrist again, pulling the sword away before he came back, this time coming in with a series of rapid, one-handed thrusting attacks, which Misao easily parried, before again twisting his wrist to come at her from the opposite side.

Misao was slightly confused by his style, which so far seemed to be taken from Western fencing, in which thrusting was the more prominent form of attack than slashing. It seemed odd. He mostly relied on his wrist to control the sword, which worked with the lighter blade of the saber, but would have been nigh impossible with a Katana.

Matahachi came in again, this time using his wrist to deliver a rapid series of slashes. As Misao retreated slightly, the man advanced, but maintained his stance, right leg in front with the foot pointing forwards while the left foot pointed perpendicular to that. Misao couldn't understand how Matahachi hoped to win with a fighting style like that.

The next time Matahachi's blade came in from her left, Misao parried it out wide, which crossed her right arm in front of her chest. Following through with the motion, Misao spun around, using her right shoulder as the axis and being careful to maintain contact between her sword and her opponent's. As her back came parallel with Matahachi's arm, Misao snapped her left arm out in a backfist that caught the man in the stomach and knocked him off his feet.

Matahachi somehow managed to keep his legs under him despite the fact that his feet had lost contact with the ground and the fact that he was on the verge of falling over backwards. Finally, his socks scraped against the floor and Matahachi skidded to a stop, several feet away from Misao. The girl was stronger than she looked. But Matahachi didn't have any time to ponder that thought as he closed quickly with her again, trying to keep her from getting her guard up. The edge of his saber came in at Misao's seemingly undefended back, only to clang against the blade of Misao's Kodachi as she reached it over her shoulder and across her back to perfectly intercept the attack. Misao snapped her arm back over her shoulder, knocking Matahachi's blade away and spinning around just in time to catch the return strike as it came about. This time, as Matahachi's blade pressed against hers, Misao snapped off a kick at his stomach. Matahachi leapt away as the blow barely grazed his abdomen.

Matahachi looked down in surprise at the tear in his shirt. If that attack had connected in full, he might not have been standing. As it was, the pain reached his brain and the man had to put a hand to his abdomen and did his best to keep from doubling over. The strike had been just a graze, but even that held substantial power.

"There's no doubt in my mind, girl," he hissed, "You're dead."

* * *

Hajime calmly reached into his coat, pulled out a cigarette. He put it in his mouth, smirking as he did so and reached in for a match, which he lit. Saitou then applied the flame from the match to the cigarette, lighting it. Having disposed of the match, Saitou took a drag of smoke, removed the cigarette from his mouth, blew the smoke out so that it hung in a gray cloud in front of him, and calmly watched his apprentice squirm.

And on the inside, Kojiro was indeed squirming. He had seen that look on his former sensei's face a great many times. It was always right before he dealt the killing blow to a doomed opponent. A great many men had met their end on the point of a sword, behind which lurked a sinister smile and a pair of eyes gleaming with the promise of death. And those same eyes now rested their gaze on the fear stricken Kojiro.

Saitou sucked in another lungful of smoke and exhaled it before dropping the cigarette to the ground in front of him. He then stepped on it with his shoe to ensure that its light went out. To Kojiro, that light seemed to represent his life and how that life would soon be extinguished as well.

"Is something the matter," said Saitou mockingly, "You're sweating bullets my dear apprentice. Whatever could it be that has you so nervous?" With his left hand, Saitou reached down and took hold of the sheath in which his sword rested. Adjusting it so that the handle was angled forward, Saitou popped the sword free with his thumb and drew it with his right hand. He then let it rest easily at his side.

Kojiro was trembling madly, but a faint glimmer of hope sprang into his mind. He had known better than to try and use it in his battle with Aoshi, but Kojiro had a concealed sword running down his back. If he could just reach it in time, he might be able to strike Saitou before Saitou could get far enough away to take up the Gatotsu stance. The concealable weapon's thin and brittle blade wouldn't have stood up to a fight with Aoshi, but if Kojiro could catch Saitou off guard at such close proximity, then the battle might very well be his.

All Kojiro had to do was reach over his shoulder and grab the hilt which lay just below the collar of his kimono. Then he could pull it out and slash down with it. A clumsy attack to be sure, but it could be enough to catch Saitou with his defenses down.

Saitou's smirk widened. He switched the sword from his right to his left hand, gripping it near the pommel. "You have forgotten what it means to be Shinsengumi, Kojiro," he said wryly.

"How can you say that," growled Kojiro, "When you serve the very government we once fought against." He didn't have any more time. His left hand rushed up over his shoulder and down to grab the hidden sword. "But I'll show you what happens to those who forget our mission."

Kojiro didn't even see the attack coming before it connected with the force of a small cannon. The sword pierced his chest with ease, passing all the way through his chest and back out the other side. Saitou released his grip on the sword, letting the force of his attack send Kojiro flying back through the doors from which he had emerged and across the foyer before slamming into the wall above the next set of doors. The sword through his chest pinned him there. _What happened,_ Kojiro wondered, _Since__ when could Gatotsu be done at such close range._

"An apprentice should know better than to overestimate his skills," said Saitou calmly as he strode up. "But you did show me what happens to those who forget our mission," he added, smiling up at Kojiro, "Aku Soku Zan, Kojiro" He let out an evil chuckle. "I never did teach you the Zero Style did I?" Saitou began to go through the somewhat tedious process of retrieving his sword, while listening to the sounds of battle that emanated from the doors in front of him.

* * *

Misao blocked a series of slashes from Matahachi, but failed to see any openings for counterattack. Aoshi watched quietly from across the room. He remembered when there had been at time that he wouldn't have allowed Misao to fight. But that was a while ago. It turned out that he hadn't made such a bad decision after all. At this point she had skill comparable to his own when he had first crossed blades with Kenshin. She handled the Kodachi with incredible ease and he didn't think it would be long before Misao would be able to learn double Kodachi techniques.

Misao leapt back from the latest strike instead of countering it. _Alright,_ she thought, _It's__ time I put what I learned from Lord Aoshi to use_. Misao charged forward and attacked Matahachi with her Kodachi. Matahachi blocked her attack with ease. It wasn't until he actually blocked the attack that Matahachi realized the mistake he had made. Her downward strike made him block laterally so that his sword came across his eyes like a blind. She could strike him at her leisure now.

As he expected, Misao's Kodachi barely tapped his saber before retreated back. But the expected blow never came. Matahachi carefully lowered his sword into a defensive position, but the girl was no longer in front of him. Matahachi caught a small bit of movement out of the corner of his eye. Whirling around, he saw Misao's figure vanish, like a phantom. _This is the same technique Aoshi used against Kojiro,_ thought Matahachi, _Jissen-Kenbu._

Misao faded in and out of sight, first circling one way, and then the next. Because she was constantly in motion, sometimes slow and other times fast, it was almost impossible to find her. Matahachi had seen how Kojiro had anticipated Aoshi's attack, and he had a fair idea how to not be caught off guard when Misao did likewise. He held his ground and waited.

Aoshi watched more than a little apprehensively. He could tell that while Matahachi wasn't the best at swordsmanship, he was good enough to observe and learn the weakness in the techniques of others. If he had already caught on to the secret of Jissen-Kenbu, then it was unlikely that Misao could catch him off guard.

"Oh!" A startled voice from nearby drew Aoshi's attention. Soujiro had finally regained his senses and was watching Misao's fight with intense interest. "You taught her well Mr. Shinomori," he observed.

"I couldn't agree more," concurred a cold voice from the entrance. Aoshi whirled around to see Saitou, smiling and smoking as always. He did not look away from Misao's fight, not even to glance at Soujiro, who remained on his knees. "But," continued Saitou, "While Matahachi may be an arrogant son of a bitch, that doesn't mean he's completely incompetent. He might have succeeded in his little plot for revenge if his plan hadn't been colored with so much bad blood. You seem to have quite an effect on that man, little Tenken." Saitou chuckled. "But the Weasel's giving a better account of herself than I anticipated. She's not too bad."

It was taking far too long for Misao to launch an attack. Aoshi was really beginning to worry. If Matahachi hadn't already known Jissen-Kenbu's weakness, then he would have figured it out by now. What was Misao waiting for? There was no way she was going to be able to catch Matahachi off guard now.

_She can't be planning to attack while still on the move,_ mused Aoshi, _Her technique wouldn't have enough power._

It happened so quickly that Aoshi was barely able to follow the sequence of events. Light glinted off of metal as the knives Misao plundered from some of the guards came flying at Matahachi's back. The man whirled around quite quickly and deflected both attacks, but he wasn't quick enough as Misao reappeared behind him, perfectly poised for an attack.

"Kaiten-Kenbu!" Misao's body became a blur as she made three rapid spins, striking Matahachi three times in succession. The force of her attack sent the man's limp body flying through the air. He landed only a few feet from Soujiro, completely motionless.

"Did you…" Soujiro couldn't bring himself to finish.

"No," said Misao, who was quite clearly pleased with he handiwork. She held up her Kodachi, which was held backwards, making it not unlike a reverse-blade sword. "But he'll regret he ever tried to kidnap me."

A clapping sound filled the ears of all present. They whirled around to see Saitou, applauding, a mocking smile on his face. "Well done Weasel," he said, a chuckle in his voice, "You certainly put that clod in his place."

Misao's face was livid. "WHAT DID YOU CALL ME!" She held her Kodachi at the ready, but was restrained by an outstretched hand from Aoshi.

"A wise decision Shinomori," said Saitou, mockingly, "I am here to have a few choice words with the Tenken and I'm afraid that I have very little patience for interference."

"I'm afraid," said Soujiro, forlornly, "That there is no longer anyone here by that name."

"Fine then," said Saitou, his tone not changing in the slightest, "I wish to speak to one Soujiro Seta, if you will."

Soujiro rose to his feet, putting away his sword as he did so. "What is it that you wish to speak with me about?"

Saitou, chuckled while lighting his cigarette. "You know," he said calmly, after taking a drag, "The first thing that cousin of yours, before anything else, was to come before me. He offered to personally assist in the hunt for you." Saitou inhaled another lungful of smoke. "I was quite naturally suspicious, already knowing to a certain extent of the circumstances under which you joined with Shishio. After I ascertained that Matahachi's sole purpose for assisting in my investigation was so that he could watch you die for your treason, I was left with the most difficult task of telling the man that we had no intention of killing you.

"As you can guess, Matahachi found this information most upsetting. He decided there and then that he would find you himself and have you killed." Saitou flicked his fingers, sending the half-smoked cigarette flying away. "But in doing so, Mr. Seta got sloppy and I noticed that he was beginning to spend much more money than a man like him should have been able to afford.

"Quite naturally, figuring that eventually he would drag you out into the open, I decided to occupy my time by finding out where Matahachi was getting all his extra funding. Me and my agents learned that the man did a thriving opium trade and was part of a drug running ring that included the entire Seta family. Matahachi was in charge of making sure that the authorities never took any notice by redirecting their attention elsewhere. It helped that the man himself was a member of good standing in the sword corps. His cousins, the very people you lived with, were in charge of smuggling that opium around the country…in rice barrels." Saitou's smirk widened when Soujiro's eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. "Indeed, many of those rice barrels you hauled as a child probably contained a small fortune in illegal opium."

Soujiro was dumbstruck. He had lost count of the number of times his stepfather went on about how he was a disgrace to their family name, how he would never amount to anything. And right behind his back, they were conducting an illegal operation, something they claimed to detest. They had tried to kill him for hiding a rebel because it went against the government. Could it be that the very barrels that Mr. Shishio had been hiding among contained large amounts of opium? The irony of the situation made Soujiro's head spin.

Saitou's voice brought Soujiro back to the present. "I've gone through a lot of trouble for you Soujiro Seta. I am going to do the right thing and offer you a job, one where your skills will be put to good use."

"No," grunted Soujiro.

"Pardon?" growled Saitou, "What I mean to say is that I'm going to give you two options. Either you can take my very generous offer, or you can grant that troublesome cousin of yours his wish and go to meet the headman."

"No," said Soujiro, much more clearly, "I want no part of you secret deals. I don't want any job where my skills can be put to use. I don't want to become an assassin again."

Saitou's eyes narrowed dangerously. "If that's the case, Tenken," he reached down with his left hand and with his thumb, popped the sword free from its sheath, "Then perhaps I should carry out your execution right here and now."

"I just want to live my life," said Soujiro, nearly sobbing now, "I don't want to kill anymore."

"In case you didn't notice," snarled the Wolf of Mibu, "You've already killed again." He indicated the two parts of Ishiro's bisected form. "Or does that not qualify?"

"I…I." Soujiro was at a loss for words. "I didn't mean to do that. I couldn't stop myself."

"Quit making excuses Tenken," said Saitou, "Don't try to stammer out justifications for the murder you just committed. My point is that you were a killer then, and you are now. So stop living in this foolish illusion where nobody ever gets hurt. Welcome to the real world, Soujiro Seta."

"STOP!" screamed Soujiro, "I don't want to kill! I don't want to do anything! I just want to be left alone!" He sank to his knees, pressing his hands against his head, a look of terrible agony on his face.

"I have to put a stop to this," hissed Misao, he began to inch towards Satiou. A hand landed on her shoulder. Misao whirled around to see Aoshi, who was now behind her.

"This is one fight we cannot interfere with," said Aoshi calmly.

"What fight?" demanded Misao, "All I see is that damn cop torturing poor Soujiro out of his mind!"

"Soujiro may not be fighting," replied Aoshi levelly, "But Hajime Saitou is."

"What do you mean by that?" Misao wanted to know.

"Saitou's most dangerous weapon is not his sword, not his Gatotsu, nor is it any other sword technique that he has ever learned," explained Aoshi, "The deadliest weapon in Saitou's arsenal, the one he is now bringing to bear on Soujiro Seta, is his mind."

"I don't understand," said Misao.

"This is how Saitou can defeat an opponent, even if that opponent is much stronger than him," Aoshi continued, "Saitou's greatest gift is to see through all the masks and facades and look into the inner workings of his enemy's head. Too many warriors try to win through the skill and will to fight alone. But Saitou wages two battles at once. One with the sword, and the other with the mind. While he parries, he also thrusts, reaching into his enemy's head, seeding doubt, anger and frustration. His enemy begins to lose control and makes mistakes; it is then that Saitou strikes the killing blow. He is now picking apart Soujiro's resolve, slowly dissolving him into a weak, defenseless boy, into whom the Wolf of Mibu will soon sink his fangs."

In front of them, Soujiro managed to recover from his bout of pain and confusion and rose to his feet. Instead of doubt and fear, Soujiro's eyes shined with renewed determination. "You're right," he said calmly.

"Now those are the words I've been waiting to hear," said Saitou smugly. He turned around. "Well, if you're through moping, let's go."

"I can't justify my reasons for killing that man," said Soujiro calmly, "Nothing I say or do will change the fact that what I did was wrong." Saitou stopped and turned around. The look in his eyes would have killed, if such a thing were possible.

Soujiro went on. "And that means that I cannot accept a lifestyle where I profit from bringing death to others." He shook his head, smiling sadly. "No. I will kill if I must, and I will accept the consequences. But I will not work for you, not as an assassin."

"Is this your final answer?" asked Saitou, his hand once again going for his sword.

Soujiro nodded. "Yes."

"Then," said Saitou in his lowest, most threatening growl, "There is nothing more for us to discuss." He drew his sword and took his favorite stance, the Gatotsu. "I will subject you to the justice of the Shinsengumi!" Saitou launched himself at Soujiro, sword leading.

Soujiro leapt aside as Saitou thrust forward. Soujiro's blade came up and parried the follow-through side slash. The young man leapt back several paces. As Saitou set himself up for another Gatotsu, Soujiro began to tap.

Saitou lunged at the former Tenken once again. Soujiro stood his ground, still tapping carefully. Saitou thrust forward, but encountered empty air once again as Soujiro vanished in a burst of dust and wood splinters as the force of his footsteps shattered the floor beneath him. Soujiro, moving at two step speed, dodged around behind Saitou. He ground to a halt and attacked, drawing his sword in the Battoujutsu.

However, Saitou anticipated Soujiro's strike and had already brought his sword around to parry the attack. Soujiro's blade clanged against Saitou's. The two parted and took up their respective stances, Saitou in his Gatotsu and Soujiro tapping in preparation for his Shukuchi.

Saitou once again came at Soujiro. But this time, he leapt up into the air and came at the young man from above. Soujiro decided that the time had come for him to put what he had learned from Seijuro Hiko to good use.

Soujiro vanished as he used the Shukuchi again. Satiou's sword impacted the floor with explosive force, sending wood chips and dust flying everywhere. Soujiro was already gone. Before Saitou had even begun to stand, the young man had gone up the wall, across the ceiling and was now coming at Saitou from above.

"Hiten Mitsurugi Style," yelled Soujiro as he descended, his blade held overhead, "Ryu-Tsui-Sen!"

Saitou brought his sword up and braced the blade with his right hand. His block intercepted the full force of the attack. The ground beneath groaned, cracked and crumbled as Saitou absorbed the full downward source of Soujiro's strike. Even as Soujiro connected, Saitou's legs were slowly bending, the wolf lowering himself into a crouch, enabling him to slowly play out all of the energy transferred by Soujiro's strike. To aid in this, he angled the point of his sword downward slowly letting it lower too, to further dissipate the strength of the attack.

Then, just as he sensed that all of the Tenken's momentum was expended, Saitou thrust forward with his right arm, turning the sword into a lever. The power of his counter actually forced Soujiro back into the air. Their blades parted. Saitou brought his sword up and angled it towards Soujiro. "Gatotsu Third Stance!" Saitou sprung out of his crouch and launched himself at his adversary with terrible speed. Soujiro immediately realized the severity of his situation. Saitou's counter left him without any ability to parry at all. He was completely open. Soujiro twisted his body and managed to avoid taking the stab in the heart. Instead, the sword punched through the flesh between two ribs, its tip just grazing Soujiro's right lung as it pushed all the way through and out the back.

Soujiro went limp. His hope was to trap Saitou's blade with his body and then attack the man when his guard was down. Soujiro's hopes were dashed as Saitou began his follow-through. The wolf's sword was trapped between two ribs, meaning there was no way he could twist it around, so Saitou instead yanked outward, causing the blade to cut through the boy's flesh and exit out his right side. As he did so, Saitou used the momentum from his attack to launch a roundhouse kick to Soujiro's other side. A loud cracking sound filled the room as the young man flew through the air to hit the ground several feet away.

"That was a mistake, Tenken," remarked Saitou coolly, "Of all who know the Battousai, we of the Shinsengumi know him better than anyone else. There is not a single technique of Himura's Hiten Mitsurugi Style that I haven't seen and analyzed. Switching to his technique only made it easier to predict your actions."

Soujiro slowly rose to his feet. He held one arm across his chest to stem the flow of blood. Despite his best efforts, it streamed out past his hands and spattered on the wooden floor staining it a deep crimson color. His left side was on fire as well, no doubt from at least one cracked rip that Saitou had dealt him.

Saitou snorted. "Try as you might, you are a pale imitation of the Battousai." The Wolf relaxed his guard and held his sword down by his side.

"I am not imitating Mr. Himura," said Soujiro, through gritted teeth, "I am a student of the Hiten Mitsurugi Style."

Saitou laughed maliciously. "So, since you can no longer cling to your beloved Shishio, you instead latch onto Himura instead of finding your own strength; how pathetic."

"The path I follow is my own," growled Soujiro, "And no one else's."

"You can't even bring yourself to acknowledge your own weakness," said Saitou, "Makoto Shishio would be most disappointed in you." He shook his head sadly.

"I am not weak," said Soujiro, straightening.

"You aren't?" Saitou raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Then how do you explain your loss to Himura."

"I was defeated by his ultimate attack," grunted Soujiro.

Saitou snorted again. "So that's your pathetic excuse. Of course, blame it all on Himura's ultimate technique. Shishio would be downright ashamed of you now."

"Obviously, you don't know the power that Mr. Himura's technique commands," spat Soujiro.

"Of course I do boy," snapped Saitou, "I have seen the technique first-hand. In fact, I have seen parts of it that you had no idea existed. I know very well the power of Himura's Amakakeru-Ryu-No-Hirameki.

"But that doesn't change the fact that what defeated you was not the Battousai's ultimate attack, but your own weakness. You would never have survived against the Battousai's true strength."

"That's not true!" exclaimed Soujiro, "Mr. Himura was using his true strength. That was the only way he had been able to get stronger after I met him at Shingetsu village."

"Himura was fighting with his full strength," agreed Aoshi, "I know this all too well."

"Speak not of what you can't understand!" Saitou barked at the leader of the Oniwaban Group, "You have never beheld the Battousai's true power. Neither of you have. I one of the few men who has ever survived a fight against the true Battousai, and I assure you, not only is it true that Himura wasn't using his full strength against either of you, but it is impossible that he could do so and yet you would remain alive."

"What do you mean?" demanded Soujiro.

"You fools all think that the reason Himura can fight so well and yet not kill is because of that ridiculous sword of his," said Saitou, "Taking up a weapon like the reverse blade sword isn't enough. Himura could quite easily slay someone with that weapon without even turning it on its edge.  
"Mankind has a proud, if primitive history of killing one another with blunt weapons. Men were beating each other's brains out with fallen tree branches long before the first sword was ever made. Musashi Miyamoto slew countless foes with a mere bokken. Yet you stare in the face of this irrefutable evidence and claim that it isn't possible for the Battousai to slay with a weapon that is as well made as the finest of true Katana." The man brought his sword up across his chest and rested the back of the blade against the fingers of his right hand.

"In order to fulfill his vow to never kill again, Himura had to give up more than his sword. He had to sacrifice a portion of his strength as well; the kind of strength that can only come from a true will to slay your enemy. That is why he was able to fight without killing his opponents from then on.

"You never fought Himura the Battousai; you only fought Himura the wanderer. If you, Soujiro, had ever fought the real Battousai, you would have been dead long before you had a chance to use that ridiculous Shukuchi technique of yours. There would be no hope for your survival." The familiar smirk returned to Saitou's face. "In other words, it was not the Battousai's strength that defeated you. It was your own weakness. The same is true for Aoshi Shinomori."

"You're a liar!" shouted Misao. She took a step towards Saitou, her Kodachi raised.

"One more step and you're a dead weasel," snarled the former captain of the Shinsengumi without so much as glancing in Misao's direction. Misao stopped in her tracks. There was nothing but grim certainty in Saitou's voice.

"But Mr. Himura couldn't have beaten me without his ultimate technique," said Soujiro, "It was the only thing fast enough to defeat me."

"The truth is that Himura didn't speed up," replied Saitou, "You slowed down. While I may not have been present, I know for certain that you and Himura exchanged more than blows."

"Yes," agreed Soujiro, "He told me about the importance of finding my own answers in life. He made me realize that I didn't really want to spend my life killing others."

"And yet," said Saitou, "That was enough to destroy the gap, between you and him."

"What do you mean?" asked Soujiro.

"In Shingetsu Village, the difference between you and Himura was obvious. You broke his sword in two with ease. And had I not called the fight a draw and ended it, the Battousai would have needed a full squad of officers to collect the pieces you would have made of him." The man chuckled at the thought. "But then, in the second battle with you. Something different happened. Because of your Shukuchi, your ability to beat Himura at his own game of speed, you had the upper hand throughout the entire battle. And yet, you weren't able to kill him.

"At some point, your roles reversed and Himura became the one in control. Not much later, he struck you with his ultimate technique and ended it."

"What's your point?" demanded Soujiro.

"What was it that changed the circumstances of the battle so radically?" Saitou sneered at his opponent. "I'll tell you what it was. Himura reached inside of you and broke the seal that held in place all the emotions that you hid away when you joined Shishio, perhaps even before then. When those emotions flooded your being, your mind snapped. You lost your focus, your control, your clarity of thought. And it all went downhill from there. Himura's ultimate technique was simply the final shovelful of dirt on your grave. In other words, you lost that battle the moment you experienced that change inside of yourself. Kenshin Himura broke you in two without lifting a finger."

"No," hissed Soujiro, "He was trying to help me, to save me from myself."

"Was he?" Saitou laughed contemptuously. "Or was he following the most basic principal of battle. Go for your enemy's weakest point. Perhaps to the Battousai, you were nothing more than a stumbling block on the road to Shishio, an obstacle that needed to be removed. He merely said what he did to eliminate the advantages you held over him, to sow doubt, to destroy your confidence and your ability. Perhaps the Battousai's so-called help was actually nothing less than his most dangerous weapon."

"You mean like yours," interjected Misao. She stepped forward. "You know better than to believe this creep, Soujiro," she shouted at Soujiro, "Even though I wasn't there, I know that Kenshin was trying to help you because that's the kind of guy he is.

"If Himura thought he could, he would have done everything in his power to help Shishio. I saw him risk his life for people he didn't even know. I saw him fight to protect people who wouldn't lift a finger to help him if his life depended on it."

Aoshi stepped up behind Misao. "Even though my only thought, my only reason for living was to kill him," said Aoshi, "Himura did everything in his power to help me as he did you. The only reason he would have done so was because he saw something in me and in you that was worth saving."

Saitou snorted. "Believe what you will," he scoffed, "But know that I understand the Battousai better than anyone who has ever known him. He and I are more alike than you can ever imagine. In the Revolution, we were both manslayers who sought to defeat our enemies using whatever means could work. In the world of a manslayer, there is no room for compassion. There is no thought given to trying to save your adversary. There is only the heat of battle and stench of death. Himura and I helped to shape that world. No one will ever understand him like I do."

Saitou leveled his sword at Soujiro once again. "Now, if you don't mind, we have differences to settle, Tenken."

Soujiro sheathed his sword. "I am Soujiro Seta," he said as confidently as he could manage.

"This isn't good," Aoshi commented to Misao, "Soujiro has lost his resolve to win and is now focusing on proving Saitou wrong."

"Isn't that the same thing though?" Misao asked.

"No," Aoshi said with a sigh, "In his mind, Soujiro is debating Saitou's points and trying to counter them. His thoughts are not focused on the battle. I'm afraid that he has lost control."

"Was he ever in control?" Misao wanted to know. Aoshi could only shrug.

"Misao," he said quietly, "I would like my Kodachi back now."

Misao handed Aoshi the sword while giving him a questioning glance.

"I have the feeling that Soujiro may be grievously wounded in their next exchange." He took his Kodachi and held them at the ready. "When that happens," he continued, "I want you to get him out of here. I will stall Saitou as much as I have to."

Misao nodded and they waited for the confrontation to be resolved.

Soujiro took the stance for his ultimate attack. Saitou smirked and lowered his sword. He faced Soujiro fully from the front.

_I'll win,_ thought Soujiro, _With__ my Shuntensatsu._ His sank further down as his knees bent, ready to spring.

At that moment, Saitou went into a much shallower crouch as he bent at the waist while also setting on his knees. His arms drew back in preparation for his own strike.

Soujiro vanished. He shot forward, closing the distance between them in an instant. His sword flew from the sheath, flying at Saitou's undefended chest. Then it hit him. Soujiro felt the pain of a sharp object penetrating his right shoulder. He then became aware of the colossal force that sent him flying backwards across the room Soujiro's sword flew free from his grasp and clattered across the floor as the boy hit the wall with an impact substantial enough to completely smash the wood behind him. Soujiro's body actually sank into the wall a good two feet before his body finally came to rest. His vision swam. Saitou was a rapidly shifting blur across the room from him. Soujiro could barely make anything out at all.

"I'm disappointed," said Saitou, "But, you did manage to come close." While Soujiro couldn't, Misao and Aoshi could see what Saitou meant. There was a very fine cut in Saitou's jacket and through the shirt underneath. The cut just barely opened the officer's skin, letting out a finite trickle of blood.

"You were slower than I expected," Saitou continued, "From the stance you took I thought your attack would be much faster than that. But, in the end, that is probably what bought you a few more moments' time. I was overextended when we connected, meaning that the majority of my power had been wasted because I was expecting you to come within striking distance much sooner. Too bad your surprise was spoiled."

"W-what do you mean?" gasped Soujiro. His shoulder was on fire, while his arm was completely numb.

"When I saw your spectacular skill at the Battoujutsu in Shingetsu Village and when I learned about your Shukuchi from Chou, I knew from that moment that you had undoubtedly created a technique that combined the two. And when I saw your stance, I understood that your technique, whatever it is called, was much faster than mere Shukuchi."

"What are you talking about?" asked Misao, from the sidelines.

"I got a good look at how the Shukuchi works when the boy used it against me," explained Saitou. "The technique serves two purposes. First, it is a charging technique. It is meant to bring the user to within striking distance of his target before said target has a chance to react. And second, it is a technique not unlike what you and Aoshi use. Soujiro can rapidly move around his target, making said target completely incapable of determining the boy's position until it's too late. However, unlike the technique you use, Soujiro can attack while he is on the move because his sheer speed lends him the power that he would otherwise lose, due to his high center of gravity, which is required to maintain the Shukuchi's extreme maneuverability.

"Soujiro always starts off with his feet close together so that when he is moving he can change direction easily. But when he used that last attack, he took a very different stance, one with a low center of gravity, even lower than what is normally expected for a Battoujutsu stance. I knew from the moment you took that stance, Soujiro that you were sacrificing all of the Shukuchi's maneuverability in order to launch yourself in an all-out charge that would far surpass the speed of the Shukuchi and slay me in an instant. Then, when you began your crouch, I knew then that you were about to attack, so I began my own in advance. I switched to the Zero style because it would allow me to strike before you could complete your own attack. Since I knew you were coming to me, there was no need for me to meet your charge with one of my own.

"But, because of our previous discussion, you were distracted when you began your attack. As a result, your attack wasn't as fast as it should have been and you escaped the full force of my own. But my attack was still strong enough to disable your dominant arm, which means you can no longer fight."

Saitou raised his weapon and ran his tongue along the edge of the blade. "And now," he said, "I will put you out of your misery." With that, Saitou stalked forward, his sword ready to take Soujiro's life.

Aoshi and Misao were about to make their move when the back door to the room exploded, sending the wooden doors flying straight between Saitou and his intended quarry. Saitou whirled around to face this new threat. His jaw nearly hit the ground at the sight before him.

"Battousai," he hissed. But a second look made him realize who it really wasn't. "No," he said after a moment, "You aren't him."

Takezo calmly stepped into the room. His gate was smooth as he crossed the floor and positioned himself neatly between Saitou and Soujiro.

"Who are you?" demanded Saitou.

Misao stifled a sigh of relief. _Takezo saves the day,_ she thought. Without a moment's hesitation, Misao broke into a run. She dashed around Saitou and Takezo to get to Soujiro. Looking down at the poor boy, Misao realized that he had lost consciousness. Carefully, she pulled one arm over his shoulder. But the young man was heavier than he looked. Misao was surprised to realize that she could barely lift him. A tug from Soujiro's other side drew her attention. Aoshi was there, taking Sojiro's other arm and helping her take the weight. Together, they carried Soujiro from the room.

"I am giving you one warning to get out of my way," said Saitou coldly, as Takezo faced him.

Takezo stood his ground, refusing to back down. Saitou snarled in frustration. "This whole night has been one problem after another," he growled. He took the Gatotsu stance. "Any obstacles in my path," Saitou said as he charged, "Will be forced aside!"

Takezo held his own sword in his left hand down at his side. He remained motionless as Saitou approached. The Wolf lashed out with his sword, thrusting forward to catch Takezo with the peak force of his attack. To Saitou's surprise, Takezo gave way, retreating from the oncoming strike. However, it wasn't fast enough to escape Saitou's attack. With his arm fully extended, Saitou was still closing the distance between them. Then, Takezo raised his sword and caught the tip of Saitou's sword on the blunt side of his blade, bracing it with his right hand. Having ensured that he wouldn't let the thrust past him, Takezo dug in with his back leg and came to a gradual stop, slowly dissipating the force of Saitou's Gatotsu.

Takezo let the tip of the enemy sword slide out to his right as he scraped his down the length of Saitou's blade, aiming to catch the Wolf between the eyes. Saitou however, was much too canny to fall for that trick. He twisted his wrist so that Takezo's sword was now sliding down the flat of his blade and caught the reverse-blade sword on the guard of his weapon. Then Saitou attacked, not with his sword, but with a right hook that smashed into Takezo's jaw, sending him flying off to one side.

Takezo hit with his shoulder and turned his fall into a roll, using the momentum of his flight to get him back on his feet almost immediately. Saitou, not one to give quarter to an enemy, was coming at Takezo with another Gatotsu, this one from above.

Takezo sank the point of his sword into the floor and dragged it forwards and upwards with such force that the floorboards broke apart and was thrown out and up in a hail of wooden shrapnel. Saitou, undeterred by the maelstrom plowed right through, hoping to punch through the technique and strike his enemy. But his Gatotsu only smashed into the floor where Takezo had been standing. Acting on instinct, Saitou sank as low as he could. Sure enough there was a sharp whistle as Takezo's sword cleaved through the air overhead. Twisting to face Takezo, Saitou surged upwards, bracing the back of his sword with his right hand in an attack that was similar in form to the Ryu-Shou-Sen. But Takezo backpedaled and the attack barely clipped a few strands of hair from his head. From there, Saitou stepped smoothly back into his Gatotsu stance.

"You fight like the Battousai," remarked Saitou, "And yet, you are not he. In fact, you are just as good, if not better than he is."

Takezo did not respond. He merely remained where he was, watching Saitou's every move. On the other hand, Hajime had no intention of making the next move. It was a stalemate.

Five minutes passed then ten, then fifteen. After almost a full eighteen minutes of inaction, Saitou abruptly lowered his sword and sheathed it. "Be on your way," he said to Takezo, "I will come for the Tenken another time."

Takezo gave Saitou a suspicious glance before sheathing his own sword. He then left via the front door. Almost alone in the room, Saitou turned to inspect the still unconscious Matahachi. "I suppose that you might be worth something," said Saitou resignedly.

* * *

Soujiro's eyes slowly opened and he let out a faint groan. The room around him swam in and out of focus as he became vaguely aware of his surroundings.

The first thing Soujiro noticed was that the fire in his shoulder had been reduced to a dull throb. The same could be said of the wound in his chest. Furthermore, he now had some feeling in his arm now, faint, but there nonetheless. He was lying down, on a futon as far as he could tell. There was a light sheet over him, probably to protect from the early morning chill, if this even was early morning, which made Soujiro realize that he also had no idea what time it was. He also became aware of the fact that he was quite thirsty.

Soujiro tried to sit up, but pain shot through his shoulder chest and he gave up before his back even left the pillow. Sunlight streamed in from a window to his right, bathing him in its warm radiance. On the other side of the room, a door opened out into a hallway. From the furnishings and the layout, Soujiro could tell that this wasn't his room back at Seijuro Hiko's house. And, quite obviously, it wasn't prison either. That only left one option. He was at the Aoiya.

The sound of footsteps came from outside the door. A young woman, clad in a violet kimono with here black hair tied back in a modest bun behind her head peaked in. "Oh!" she exclaimed, "You're awake."

She disappeared and came back a moment later. After some work, she managed to arrange it so that Soujiro was now resting on cushions that were propped up against the wall, leaving him in a sitting position. She then held a cup to Soujiro's lips. When he felt the first drop of water touch them, he drank deeply until the cup was empty. Feeling much better, Soujiro coughed slightly before managing to choke out a hoarse "Thank you."

"Just rest now," replied the woman, "And leave the talking to people with lungpower to spare." She then held up a bowl of vegetable broth and proceeded to spoon feed Soujiro the substance. Soujiro was quite glad for the assistance, considering he felt too weak to move even his uninjured arm. From her appearance, Soujiro guessed that this was Omasu.

While he was being fed, Soujiro assessed his condition. His right arm was in a sling while his shoulder remained heavily bandaged. His chest was bound as well, where Saitou's sword scored a hit, a hit that had been echoed a second later with his boot. Most likely, Saitou had broken two or three ribs with that hit.

"You aren't going anywhere for a little while," explained Omasu, "And you won't be picking up a sword in an even longer while. I'm afraid the doctor insists that you keep off your feet and don't exert yourself too much."

Soujiro nodded. With his thirst quenched and his stomach full, he was feeling more than a little drowsy. Already, his eyes were beginning to droop. His head was sinking down and he soon fell asleep. He didn't even notice Omasu carefully arranging it so that he was again lying down. After leaving the room, while balancing the tray on one arm, she slid the door shut behind her.

* * *

Misao sat in the courtyard, silently watching the clouds pass by overhead. A noise behind her made the girl sit up and look around. Omasu was already there next to her. "The poor young man was awake for a little bit," explained Omasu, "But once he had eaten he went right back to sleep."

"Poor Soujiro," remarked Misao, "Saitou really knocked him around."

"The doctor said that he will make a complete recovery," said Omasu, "But he's going to need more than a month before he'll be able to use that arm again."

"No one deserves that kind of treatment," mused Misao.

"That doesn't change the fact that Soujiro is a wanted man," interjected a calm voice. Okina joined them in the courtyard, "As much as we may dislike Saitou and however much we have come to understand Soujiro, he is still a criminal. Hajime Saitou has followed his instincts since his days in the Shinsengumi. And those instincts have told him to preserve order at all costs, to eliminate anything that may undermine the stability of this nation. That was why Saitou fought against the Imperialists in the days of the Revolution and that is why he fights for them today. To him, Soujiro is one of two things. He is either another pillar of stability, which can be used to shore up our government and prevent another time of chaos and turmoil. Or he, he may be the instrument of that same disorder which may one day threaten to bring about the downfall of the Meiji. The Wolf of Mibu holds his duty sacred above all else, even his own feelings on the matter."

"Are you saying that Saitou may feel guilty about doing this to Soujiro?" demanded Misao.

"I am saying that he cannot allow himself to be deterred even if he does. As a member of the Shinsengumi, Saitou's duty and honor are closely bound. He cannot have one without the other. And as a true samurai, he could not allow himself to live without either. One slip, one act of leniency and Hajime Saitou could destroy an entire lifetime of work."

"But it's not fair," exclaimed Misao, "Soujiro is just confused and wants time to work things out. He doesn't plan on being a danger to this nation anymore. He just wants to find a new life for himself. Why is that so hard?"

"Because, like Himura, Soujiro cannot simply ignore the fact of who he once was. And if he can't accept that, then he may very well end up like Himura was before he finished his training. Soujiro could become a man who sways between the hearts of a manslayer and pacifist, a perpetual danger not only to those around him, but to himself as well. Saitou knows this himself and that is why he hunts Soujiro. He has been trained to hunt down and eliminate any and all threats to this nation of Japan. And as far as he is concerned, Soujiro is just that kind of threat." Okina shook his head sadly.

"Then why would Saitou ask Soujiro to work for the government if he's such a big threat?"

Okina sighed. "Saitou understands how dangerous Soujiro can be because of the young man's confusion about what to do in life. But if he gives Soujiro direction in life, something to do with all the abilities that he has, a way to put all those instincts that Soujiro developed under Shishio to work, he can keep Soujiro from falling prey to his own confusion and make the young man's abilities into something productive at the same time."

"How is that any different from what Shishio did to Soujiro?" Misao wanted to know, "He just waltzed into Soujiro's life and shoved his kill or be killed mumbo-jumbo on Soujiro. Saitou's doing the same thing, isn't he?"

"The difference is that Saitou probably knows this, but doesn't care. He has no need for philosophers or people who are trying to find a way in life. What he needs are warriors with the skill and strength to ensure that Japan remains strong. To that end, he doesn't care that he may be doing the same things as Shishio; he's just trying to do his job."

"So it all boils down to the fact that Saitou's chasing Soujiro because he's trying to do what's best for the nation of Japan," mumbled Misao, "And there's nothing we can do to change that."

"Correct," agreed Okina, "The only thing we can do is keep Soujiro out of Saitou's hands long enough for the young man to end his confusion in the same way that Himura did; though it seems that Soujiro is already heading in the right direction. Perhaps, one day Soujiro will be able to make a deal with Saitou, like the other members of the Juppongatana and get a job where he will no longer have to slay others for a living."

"In the meantime," interrupted Omasu, "We've still got work to do and customers to serve. I think we've all spent enough time chitchatting about that poor boy. It's time for us to get back on the job. This is a restaurant after all."

Misao and Okina nodded. They stood up and went about their business.

* * *

Saitou grimaced as he pulled the glove onto his left hand. Shortly thereafter, he put one on his right hand. With his uniform now complete, he turned his head to look at Akemi, who sat across from him. On the desk between them, an unopened package of cigarettes lay. Saitou hadn't touched a single one since his fight with Soujiro. And that told Akemi right away that something was wrong.

"Why don't we search the Aoiya," she suggested, "Seta is most likely there right now. We know that he has allied himself with the Oniwaban Group and we know that that restaurant is their base of operations. So why don't we search the premises?"

"Because," replied Saitou, "The Oniwaban Group's services to the government are indispensable. Even though they are not a government agency, or even supported by the Meiji, Japan may very well collapse without the Oniwaban's assistance. If we searched the Aoiya and found Soujiro there, we would have no choice but to arrest them for obstructing justice. Furthermore, just searching that place would be stepping on a lot of toes politically speaking. We cannot afford to attain censure at this point and time.

"But, Soujiro cannot stay in there forever. And the instant he sets foot outside of that place, he will be mine, one way or another. In the meantime, he does not pose a threat while he is there. He is under the watchful eye of Aoshi Shinomori, a man whose skill rivals even that of the Battousai. There is no way that Soujiro can cause trouble while he's in there."

Akemi sighed, "Surely there are better things that you can do with your time, Hajime. What's one former assassin to you? All we need do is post a competent spy by the Aoiya who will report on the Tenken's movements after he leaves and we can apprehend him at our leisure."

"You don't seem to understand," growled Saitou, "Soujiro Seta was the right hand man to Makoto Shishio; his right hand. After a year, we have only barely begun to pull at the ends of the complicated network that is Shishio's syndicate. As the second to Shishio himself, all Soujiro would have to do is say the word and Shishio's organization would be his to do with as he pleases."

"If that is true, then why hasn't the Tenken done that already?" Akemi wanted to know.

"After meeting him, I have reassured myself that Soujiro wants no part in furthering Shishio's plans," said Saitou, "But he doesn't have to want that part to be a threat. Right now, Soujiro is little more than a naïve child. It would be far too easy for someone to manipulate him, to turn the Tenken into a puppet with which to tug the strings of the entire syndicate. I more than assured my suspicions in our duel. I got past his defenses so easily that it was pitiful. He is currently in a very delicate state mentally, a state where he can be easily controlled. That is the greatest threat Soujiro presents. He is the perfect figurehead. And it would be laughably simple to make him such."

"Why don't you allow me to see to the Tenken's capture Hajime?" Akemi asked, "I assure you that I am more than capable of doing the job."

Saitou seriously considered the offer. "Very well," he agreed, "You may monitor him, but make no move to apprehend him unless you have my direct approval. Is that understood?"

Akemi nodded. "I understand completely."

The smile returned to Saitou's face. "Good," he replied, "Now that I think about it, I have a few questions I would like to ask the Seta who _is_ in our custody."

"I believe that Matahachi is currently in Osaka," remarked Akemi, "He will soon be shipped north to Hokkaido."

"Not before I have a few words with him," commented Saitou.

"By the way," added Akemi, "Where is that blond buffoon who works for you now?"

"You mean Chou," answered Saitou, "He's off duty for the week."

"You're afraid that he will become too personally involved with the Tenken's situation?" inquired Akemi.

"Actually," said Saitou, "I rather hope that he will."

"What do you mean?"

Saitou chuckled. "I believe now that I may have been too…direct in my handling of the situation. But, should Chou happen to, by accident or design, bump into the Tenken, it may be possible for Soujiro's old comrade to ease him into the idea of working for us."

"You don't expect that to work, do you?" asked Akemi.

"Not right away," replied Saitou, "But I'm counting on Chou being a bit more civil to the Tenken than I was." Saitou folded his hands together and rested his chin on them. "But enough of that," he stated, "It's time that you began your new assignment. What do you think you are going to do first?"

Akemi smiled slyly. "I think that I will pay that fine restaurant, the Aoiya, a visit, unofficially, of course."

Saitou snorted. "Of course."

* * *

Matahachi slumped against the wall. The wooden bars of the prison cell crisscrossed the doorway in front of him, the gaps between revealing the hallway beyond. Across that hall was an identical cell; same dimensions, same stonework, same furnishings, same disgusting stench. That was the way of prison, monotonous, dull and disgusting. Matahachi had thrown countless people into cells like the one he was in now. Never in his darkest nightmares had he ever imagined that he might one day be the one behind the bars.

It was all Soujiro's fault. Matahachi knew that beyond all doubt. If that little whore spawn hadn't slaughtered his family more than a decade ago, Matahachi would have never have needed to make arrangements with opium dealers and a thousand other criminal cartels in order to find something, anything about his cousin, the butcher of his family.

And then there was Saitou. The thought of that man made Matahachi snarl with barely contained rage. How dare that wolf throw him behind bars like he was some kind of common thief. Saitou had no respect for the ties of family. He would rather have that murderer on his payroll than see justice dispensed. When he got out of prison, Matahachi would see Saitou die as well.

And then there was Aoshi Shinomori and that bitch of his. If they hadn't interfered, revenge most certainly would have been his. But they had to stick their noses in his business and mess everything up. Matahachi quite conveniently forgot that he had drawn Aoshi into the conflict by kidnapping Misao.

It had been two days since he had been tossed in this hellhole. He had heard that he was going to be shipped out in the morning to Hokkaido. But only a little while earlier, Matahachi heard that the order had been changed. Apparently, Saitou himself (under the guise of Gorou Fujita) was coming to ask Matahachi a few questions. Now doubt, the Wolf of Mibu wished to unearth just who and what Matahachi's underworld connections were. But Matahachi Seta would not talk, not even under the worst of tortures.

Not that Matahachi would ever get the chance. Moonlight was streaming into the tiny window of his cell when it happened. Thunder boomed outside. Or at least he thought it was thunder until the wall across from him exploded, sending dust and debris flying outward into the hall while shards of rock and slivers of wood buzzed through the air like angry hornets. Matahachi ducked and used his arms to shield his vitals as the shrapnel went flying his way.

The excited shouts of guards and officers caught by surprise were drowned out by more thunderclaps as several other portions of the prison exploded and or burst into flame. It seemed that someone was firing a large amount of artillery at the place. It seemed plausible, since the prison and the adjoining police headquarters were within shelling distance if a ship were to fire cannons from within the harbor.

The explosions continued, decimating the jail with alarming swiftness. A round hit the cell right next to him. That one had been occupied. However, said occupants didn't have an opportunity to scream as their bodies were shredded by shrapnel while simultaneously being engulfed in flames. He was thrown to the ground as the walls and floor reverberated with the force from the blast. The shockwave caused the wooden bars in front of him to almost completely disintegrate. Getting to his feet, Matahachi didn't hesitate to take his first steps towards freedom.

He halted almost immediately as something, no, someone seemingly materialized from the inferno in the cell across from his. The person, his appearance obscured by the smoke that wreathed his body and his own shadow, cast from the flames behind him, seemed to tower over Matahachi. His only unmistakable feature was the sword hanging at his side.

The man looked down on the former police swordsman with eyes that seemed to glow a hellish shade of red. Matahachi couldn't stop himself from blurting out his question. "Who are you?"

"Names are useless to the dead," replied the man, "And seeing as you are about to become so, you won't be making any use of the ones you already know." He drew his sword.

Matahachi frantically looked about for some kind, any kind of weapon. He couldn't spot any. His mysterious assailant seemed to be savoring the moment, slowly raising his sword over his head in careful preparation for the final blow. And what a blow it was. The downward cut completely bisected Matahachi from head to toe, the two halves of his corpse dropping in opposite directions. His killer calmly flung the blood from his sword and re-sheathed it before melting back into the flames. He was unaware that a small part of his loose hanging garment had snagged on one of the few pieces of wooden bar still anchored in the wall. The tearing sound was obscured by the thunder of artillery and the crackling of flame. He didn't even notice its absence. After the man vanished, the barrage finally ended, leaving the prison to burn in the night.

* * *

Aoshi was roused by a silent, almost inaudible tapping on his window. Rising from his futon, he carefully slid the window open to reveal a pigeon, perched on the roof outside. From the looks of things, it was a carrier that had come straight from Osaka. Carrier pigeons were the most frequently used means of contact by the Oniwaban Group. Because they were common, reliable and difficult to intercept, the birds were perfect for carrying sensitive information. Each contact had a special mark that could be seen on the message without ever removing it from the bird's leg that allowed the recipient to immediately know where the bird had come from.

Aoshi stood aside as the bird fluttered into the room and set down on the stand he had for just such an occasion. He carefully unwrapped the strip of paper that had been tied around the bird's leg. The message must have been extremely urgent for the bird to have come directly from Osaka. From the mark, Aoshi knew it came from one of his informers in the police. Normally, sensitive, but less urgent information that was sent from that was sent over a considerable distance was sent from one contact to another who passed it on to another, sort of leap-frogging it to the recipient. Each successive contact recopied the message and changed the mark before sending it off to the next one down the line, thus preventing it from being traced directly to the source by anyone who might intercept it. Because the risk of such seizure increased with the distance, it was important to maintain this chain of delivery. However, if it was imperative that the information be received immediately, the bird could be made to fly directly to the message's intended destination.

This was just such a bird. Aoshi knew that there were no less than three contacts between Kyoto and Osaka. One ran a restaurant on the fringes of Osaka. The second was the owner of a rest stop between the two cities and the third operated an inn on the outskirts of Kyoto. For a carrier to have been sent over such a substantial distance directly must have meant that the information was very important and very urgent.

The message read, _Osaka__ police headquarters shelled. Matahachi Seta was found dead._ It was short and to the point. Aoshi's eyes widened. Shelling the police department was a bold maneuver. If Matahachi had indeed been the intended target, then this was something far bigger than some drug runners trying to silence a potential snitch. And it certainly didn't smell of a botched attempt to spring Seta from prison either. Whoever the culprit was would have tried a much more subtle method than bombing the prison. This was grave news indeed. Aoshi decided to go see for himself.

After putting his fighting clothes on and slipping into his brown coat, the Leader of the Oniwaban group took only one of his Kodachi. It would prove more than adequate for his defense if he encountered trouble along the way. He stepped out of the Aoiya and into the night, determined to see things for himself.

* * *

Saitou, on the other hand, was much less delicately roused. He awoke to a loud pounding on the door of his bedroom. With a low snarl, he lurched out of the comfortable futon and prowled toward the door. If the imbecile who was waking him didn't have a good reason for doing so, Saitou planned on showing him why he was called the Wolf of Mibu. He flung the door with enough force to almost tear it away from the wall. The glare he gave to the young officer outside would have melted ice on the coldest winter day.

"What is it?" he growled, "You'd better have a good reason for waking me at this ungodly hour."

"Mr. Fujita, sir!" the officer replied in a panicky kind of voice, "It's Osaka!"

"What about Osaka?" Saitou was working hard to stifle the urge to rip the man's head off. Why did these young ones always try to dance around the subject?

"The prison, police headquarters, it's been destroyed!" The man blurted out.

The news snapped Saitou into instant wakefulness. "What of the prisoner, Seta?" he demanded.

The officer shrugged quickly. "That was the only news we got," he answered, "There's no information on what happened to any of the prisoners."

"Have a carriage ready immediately," snapped Saitou, "I will go to Osaka at once."

The young man saluted smartly before dashing off down the hall of the inn where Saitou made his quasi-permanent residence while he was in Kyoto. It was near the station so he was always close to his work. That alone made the inn suit Saitou's purposes just fine. He shut the door and changed out of his nightclothes and into his police uniform. After putting on his cap and putting on his belt, sword and all, Hajime Saitou, now Goro Fujita, made his way down the hall towards the inn's front door.

When he left, he quickly amended his opinion of the young officer who had woken up. The carriage was already there; ready to go with a driver who, surprisingly enough seemed wide awake. The horses were harnessed and the officer who had woken him up was holding the door open for him. Saitou stepped into the carriage, but not before shouting out his instructions to the driver. "Get to Osaka as fast as you possibly can!" The driver didn't ask any questions. He simply cracked the reigns and urged the horses into motion. In mere moments, they were rattling their way down the road towards Osaka.

* * *

The sun was well up over the horizon by the time the Aoiya opened for business. Despite the evident absence of Aoshi, business at the restaurant carried on as usual. The place had to be ready, though people rarely ate breakfast out. It gave the workers a chance to get a jump on things and get a head start on preparing for the lunchtime crowd.

As noon approached, more and more people entered the establishment, intent on having their midday meal there. Among them was a young woman who drew the attention and admiration of a great many men. Despite the fact that she dressed quite modestly, the girl was undeniably attractive. As she took a seat, alone at a table near the back of the restaurant, one of the waiters approached her.

"Welcome to the Aoiya," he said, "My name is Shiro and I will be your waiter."

As Shiro began to expound on the special meals available that day, the girl thoroughly surveyed the room and all the people therein. Shiro, seemingly oblivious to the fact that his customer was seemingly paying him no mind, continued to ramble on without pause. Finally finished with her inspection the girl turned to look her waiter in the eye.

"I believe that I am ready to order," she said calmly. She then raised a hand to forestall any acknowledgement. "But before I do, I would like to ask a few questions first."

Shiro nodded cordially. "Go right ahead and I will try to answer them to the best of my ability."

"I have only just recently arrived here in Kyoto and I have been seeking a place to stay. You wouldn't also happen to have a room that I could rent?" The girl's question seemed innocent enough.

"I'm afraid that we are a restaurant only," replied Shiro, "But I can recommend a number of fine inns that might meet your expectation."

"But inns can be so very expensive," protested the girl, "From where I came in, I could see that the Aoiya is very large and with many rooms. Surely you must have room for just one boarder."

"I'm sorry, but we still can't accommodate your request," said Shiro, "The only boarders here, besides the staff are close personal friends of the owner."

"Perhaps I could meet with the owner and make my situation clear to him, would that be possible?"

"I'm afraid that the owner is indisposed currently," answered Shiro, "Now, what would you like to order?"

"I'm afraid that I have lost my appetite," replied the young woman.

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Shiro, "Call me again when you are ready." He turned around, offering Akemi just the opening she needed. Her right hand lashed out like a striking snake to grip Shiro's wrist. Applying more strength than she appeared to have, Akemi twisted the man's arm behind his back.

Of course, mild mannered Shiro was a ninja of the Oniwaban Group; a group that prided itself on the quality of the ninja it provided. He could have easily broken free from such a simple hold. He was more than motivated to do so when he noticed the soft grating sound of a sword being drawn. However, the girl's voice stopped him in his tracks. It's once gentle tone now sounded like a venomous hiss. It was cold, calculating, and deadly.

"Easy now," she said softly, her voice sending chills up and down Shiro's spine, "Let's not startle the other customers."

"I don't know what you want, but you don't want to do anything foolish here," said Shiro as calmly as he could.

"I will be the one who judges whether or not I am being foolish," she said, her voices not changing in the slightest, "Now follow my instructions very carefully or you will die very quickly."

Working in a restaurant had its perks and its dangers. Shiro, like anyone else who worked at the Aoiya, had a fair amount of experience with thieves and robbers. He himself had had to deal with a few armed robberies on occasion. People with weapons, knives, swords, or even guns, were rarely a problem for him. But this girl was different. Shiro felt her gaze burning into his back and knew that if he tried anything that she would make good on her threat…no, her promise.

The girl seemed to sense his inward submission. "Good," she said calmly, "Now, take me to the one who is currently in charge. Aoshi or Okina, or even that Weasel girl of yours will do."

_Weasel girl!_ That nickname for Misao, rang a bell in Shiro's mind. "You work for Saitou."

"Very good," replied Akemi, "Now, let's go."

Behind the ninja, Akemi had only half drawn the Wakizashi she had hidden up her sleeve. First, provided that the man cooperated, Akemi could put it away before he knew where it was hidden, keeping him from disarming her in a pinch. Also, keeping it only partially drawn enabled her to keep it out of sight, behind Shiro's back so that no one else in the restaurant to could see the weapon and raise a fuss.

* * *

Okon was working the tables close to the kitchen. She had noticed only a few moments ago that Shiro was standing unusually still by the same table in the corner for some time now. From the position of his arm, she guessed that it might be restrained behind his back. That was unusual. Normally, Shiro could break such a hold with ease. Two thoughts occurred in Okan's mind, either he didn't want to, or breaking that hold would cause more problems than it solved. Then she saw that his left hand was frantically signaling her in the hand code used by the Oniwaban Group. _Police!_

Okon's mind raced as exited the dining room via the kitchen. A hundred possibilities occurred in her mind, all of them leading to the same conclusion. The police were after Soujiro. Okon knew she didn't have time to go to Okina for a decision. She had to get the boy out before he couldn't be taken out at all.

She headed straight for Soujiro's room.

* * *

The surviving personnel had finally managed to get the fires extinguished by the time Saitou arrived. As he stepped out of the carriage, the manslayer stifled the urge to utter every curse he knew. The headquarters was on the verge of collapsing after everything was said and burned. Giant chunks were gouged out of the structure and what was left was badly blackened by the fires. The prison didn't fare much better.

The constable saluted as Saitou came up. "Mr. Fujita," he said, "I'm sorry to report that we have no knowledge of the culprit."

"Never mind that," snapped Saitou, "What of Seta?"

The man looked down. "He's…dead, sir."

Saitou sighed. He had been afraid of that. This attack was most likely connected to the fact that Matahachi had been delivered to the prison in Osaka. If that was the case, then there was something larger at worker.

"I see that we are of like mind, Mr. Fujita," said a cold voice from behind. Saitou slowly turned to look at Aoshi.

"You have a lot of nerve to come here," he said softly, but not bothering to disguise the threatening rumble in his voice.

"That is beside the point," replied Aoshi. He stepped past Saitou and made his way towards the prison, brushing past the bemused constable in the process. Aoshi turned to look back at Saitou. "Are you coming?"

The confused constable shouted at Aoshi's back. "You can't go in there without official permission!"

"He has it," growled Saitou, walking past the man and following Aoshi.

The inside of the prison looked as bad as the outside. Interestingly enough, one of the few parts that hadn't been touched by the flames was the cell that Matahachi had been staying in. The prisoner's body was plainly visible. Saitou grimaced at the sight. The man had been cut in two lengthwise.

"He's been cut in Kara Take style," Aoshi observed.

"That seems impossible," remarked Saitou, "In order to complete such a cut the killer would have to cut through the skull and then the spine, all the way down, not to mention the ribs and pelvis. It would take a swordsman of immense strength to make such a wound with a single cut."

Looking around to at his surroundings, Saitou spotted something that was quite amiss. Hanging on one of the shattered remnants of the prison bars was a piece of shredded cloth. Saitou carefully removed it and examined it. It appeared to be a strip of white linen, the kind a doctor would use to bandage an injury of some sort. Curious, Saitou brought it to his nose and sniffed. Long ago, he had learned to rely on senses besides sight and hearing. His smell was especially acute, one of the reasons his title, the Wolf of Mibu was well deserved. Upon inhaling, Saitou almost immediately recoiled.

"What is it?" asked Aoshi. Saitou held the piece of cloth up to him. Aoshi took it in his hand and looked at it before smelling it as well. When he did, he nearly dropped the cloth. "That's…impossible."

The two of them looked at one another. It was perhaps the first time they both displayed strong emotions simultaneously on their faces for all the world to see. But the evidence was undeniable. The bandage unmistakably smelled of burnt flesh.

* * *

Author's Notes: Huzzah! I think that I have finally mastered the use of dividers. That having been accomplished, I hope that you all will find reading my chapters a much easier, worry free experience. And now on to the real notes.

I basically took Matahachi's fighting style from just about every swashbuckling, sword fighting movie I've ever seen. I basically wanted to convey the idea that the guy was fairly good, certainly no match for our heroes (excuse me, and heroine), just so he was a few steps short of a total pushover. I'm not exactly sure that I succeeded, but I'll let the literate masses be the judge of that.

I had a lot of fun putting together the sequence of the fight between Saitou and Soujiro. Of course, there wasn't much actual fighting in it, compared to the dialogue. But in the series, that's one thing that always interested me in how Saitou fights. I picked up that particular idea while I was watching episode 49, the duel between Saitou and Usui.

Finally, about the ending. I've revealed the key clue as to the identity of our mysterious evil mastermind. And I'm willing to bet that most, if not all of you have figured out the answer by now.

Oh, and for those of you who don't know, if you remember from episode 42, Kara Take is the downward slash from above.


	7. Training Abroad: Departure From Kyoto

Author's note: This is going to be a shorter chapter than what I usually write, but bear with me. Next chapter will have more action, I promise.

Disclaimer: Same old, same old.

**Chapter 7: Training Abroad: Departure From ****Kyoto******

Okon burst into Soujiro's room. Misao and Takezo were there as well. Takezo was leaning quietly against the wall while Misao had been carefully feeding Soujiro. They all looked up, Soujiro much more slowly than the others, at Okon.

"We have to get you out of here, Soujiro!" said Okon frantically, "Someone from the police just showed up and is meeting with Okina right now!"

"He can't walk, let alone run," protested Misao, "How is he going to get out of here.

"We'll carry him if we have to," replied Okon, "But we have to get him back to Sir Hiko before the police start searching this place in earnest."

Takezo nodded in agreement and stood. He rushed out of the room. A moment later he was back, carrying a stretcher. While the Aoiya was no hospital, they did have a few such devices lying around in the event that one of the Oniwaban was injured under questionable circumstances.

After he had been carefully moved to the stretcher, Soujiro gave Okon a most grateful look. "Thank you for everything you've done for me," he said softly.

Okon smiled down at him. "You're welcome. If you want to repay me, you can put in the good word for me with Sir Hiko."

"I will certainly do so," replied Soujiro, smiling in amusement. Misao and Takezo quickly carried him out the back door. They planned to follow the mostly deserted back alleys to get to the trail that led to Hiko's home.

Meanwhile, Okon made her way to the guest room where Okina was undoubtedly entertaining their unpleasant visitor.

* * *

Okina sat facing the young woman. Shiro, having recently been released from her grip now took up a position behind the old man. Okon came in a second later to report that Kuro and Omasu had taken their places in the restaurant. She too then took up a position behind Okina.

Despite having been in the room for a good ten minutes, neither Okina nor the young woman had exchanged any words. Generally Okina, the womanizer that he was, would have been overjoyed out of his mind to have a beautiful young lady visiting his humble abode. But this was no ordinary woman. He could see that the moment he laid eyes on her.

The woman calmly looked Okina in the eye. "Well?" she said coldly.

Okina cleared his throat. "It is extremely discourteous to start a conversation while you are still hiding a weapon up your sleeve," he replied evenly.

The girl smirked and withdrew the Wakizashi from her sleeve and set it down to her left. "Is that more to your liking?"

"I would prefer that you set it down to your right?" answered Okina.

"If you say so," conceded Akemi. Though her tone was resigned, her smirk was even more pronounced than before, "You are truly as skilled as my sources say."

"And who might you be?" inquired Okina.

"I suppose that it would be just as rude to hold a conversation without first introducing myself," said the young lady, "I am Akemi Ebisu, special agent of the government under Hajime Saitou."

"You work under Saitou," said Okina, raising an eyebrow, "That explains a great deal." _You two share personalities._ "May I ask why you have chosen to grace us with your presence?"

"To put things plainly, I am looking for one Soujiro Seta, also known as the Tenken," replied Akemi.

"Whatever gave you the idea that he can be found here?" asked Okina without batting an eyelid.

"When Sir Saitou encountered the Tenken in the mansion of one Matahachi Seta, the Tenken was accompanied by one Aoshi Shinomori of the Oniwaban Group and they were engaged in an operation to rescue one Misao Makimachi, also of the Oniwaban," stated Akemi.

"Misao had been captured by Matahachi's men," explained Okina, "And because Matahachi is Soujiro's cousin, we decided to enlist his help as well. However, there is no evidence supporting the notion that he is staying at the Aoiya."

Akemi's smirk faded. "During his duel with the Tenken, Sir Saitou severely injured him. After Shinomori and Makimachi and another unknown swordsman aided in Soujiro's escape and disappeared, a skilled and well known surgeon arrived at the Aoiya on a house call, even though none of the Oniwaban's members were actually injured in the fight. Now, who could he have possibly been here to visit?"

"The affairs of the Aoiya are not your concern," replied Okina.

"By law, I have the right to order a search of the premises," said Akemi coldly.

"And yet you know that you could never do that," retorted Okina.

Akemi smiled slyly, "I don't have to publicly search this place, you know."

"You are free to," interjected Okon, drawing a disagreeable look from Okina and Shiro.

Akemi raised an eyebrow. "And if I happen to discover that the Tenken is on the premises?"

"I assure you that he is not," replied Okon.

Akemi's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I shall then."

* * *

Seijuro Hiko was seated comfortably in front of his kiln when he heard the sound of trotting feet behind him. Just barely glancing over his shoulder, Hiko saw the source of the noise. Takezo and that Makimachi woman were carrying a stretcher laden with Hiko's latest apprentice on board. Soujiro looked to be just short of unconsciousness.

Hiko snorted and stood up. "Just where have you been the past few days?" he demanded as he turned around.

"I'm sorry," coughed Soujiro from his position on the stretcher, "There was something that I had to do."

"And so you vanish for three days and come back like this?" demanded Hiko crossly, "When my apprentice goes out on an errand, I expect him to come back with all his parts attached."

"Hey!" shouted Misao from the back of the procession, "He was hurt because he was trying to help me! And the fact that that evil cousin of his was after his life didn't really help."

"And of course there is the matter that he are still wanted by the government for his previous crimes," Hiko added, "It was stupid of him to simply rush out on his own without thinking the situation over; or even asking for help in that matter."

"But he did think it over and he did get help," protested Misao, "And that's why he's still alive."

Hiko snorted. "Very well then. I should like to hear the full story." He gestured towards the door to his house. "Go ahead and take the boy in. Then, I expect to hear exactly what it is my idiot apprentice has been doing for the past three days."

* * *

Akemi turned to look back at the Aoiya. _They act quickly,_ she thought. Judging from the reactions of the people she had been conversing with, Soujiro had been in the place when she arrived, but apparently they had been able to move him before she got a chance to thoroughly search the establishment.

_Of course, concealing a person is a simple feat for the Oniwaban,_ thought Akemi, _At one time, they specialized in making people disappear._

That didn't change the fact that she still didn't have anything to show for her troubles. She had just revealed herself to the Oniwaban Group and Soujiro Seta was still at large. If anything, her actions might have made the situation worse.

Akemi entered a restaurant and promptly ordered her favorite dish. As she dug in, she gave her mission her full attention.

_Now that they know the government is very close on Soujiro's tail, their next action will probably be to get the Tenken out of __Kyoto__ as soon as possible._ That considered, it didn't make her job any simpler. There was a myriad of ways that a person could leave the city without being noticed. If Soujiro wanted to leave without being caught by the police, it would be easy to do so, despite their best efforts.

_That means,_ realized Akemi, _That instead of trying to keep up with Soujiro, I should be getting ahead of him. That entails figuring out his destination when he leaves __Kyoto_ Saitou had told her about how Soujiro had been planning to wander for a while before the whole incident with his cousin took place. But with his injuries, Soujiro wouldn't be going back to wandering any time soon. Thus, his next move would be to find a safe hideaway where he could finish healing.

_Where outside of __Kyoto__ would the Oniwaban trust Soujiro Seta for a sufficient period of time to allow him to recover from his injuries?_ Akemi wondered. The answer came to her easily. _The Kamiya dojo in __Tokyo_ No doubt, Kenshin Himura would be sympathetic towards the Tenken's plight, meaning that he would be more than willing to open his doors to the young wanderer.

_If I leave for __Osaka__ tomorrow, I can take the next boat to __Tokyo__ and be there within a few weeks,_ she thought. However, a sudden departure would alert the Oniwaban to the fact that she was on to their plan. Thus, she would have to delay her departure, till after Soujiro left at the very earliest. Time was on her side though. Even though he would have little trouble getting out of Kyoto, getting to Tokyo would be a different matter entirely. Both the Kyoto train station and the ports in Osaka were far too well guarded and monitored for the Tenken to pass through there unnoticed. Thus, that restricted his only means of travel to the old Tokkaido trail that wound its way between the two cities. According to Saitou, it was the same path that Himura took to get to Kyoto from Tokyo because he wanted to keep attention focused away from his movements.

That gave Akemi plenty of time to act. Once Soujiro left, there would be very little chance of the Oniwaban alerting him to her movements. All Akemi had to do then, was settle down and wait.

* * *

Hiko listened to the story over a jug of good sake. Misao explained about her capture and how it was used to lure Soujiro to Matahachi's mansion. She also gave him the details Aoshi had told her about Soujiro's stay at the Aoiya. And finally, she went on to explain about Soujiro's fight with Saitou and how he got his severe injuries.

Hiko chuckled. "So the boy got injured when he went to save you from his cousin. Is that correct?"

Misao nodded eagerly.

"Then that would mean that…" Hiko's voice trailed off.

"Yes!" Misao goaded him on, hoping to hear that he understood what Soujiro was trying to do.

"…that this is all your fault." Misao fell flat on her back, something that is very difficult to do when one is in a sitting position.

When she sat back up, her eyes were bulging from their sockets and she was giving Seijuro a look of pure hatred. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S MY FAULT?! IT'S ALL THE WORK SOUJIRO'S CRAZY COUSIN!"

"Still," said Hiko when Misao paused for air, "You allowed yourself to be captured. A true ninja shouldn't be so easily caught off guard. Then, when you knew perfectly well that you could escape yourself, you decided to wait for Soujiro and your beloved Aoshi to come rescue you."

"Matahachi and his men had found out that Soujiro was hiding here," said Misao, now that she had calmed herself down, "If we didn't settle that battle then and there, then Matahachi would have come here with all his men. When Saitou began his fight with Soujiro, he made it clear that he had been watching Matahachi for quite some time, which means that after you dealt with Matahachi's thugs the police would have been on your doorstep."

Hiko snorted. "Well, you've made your position clear. Now go home and leave Soujiro to me. He is my apprentice after all."

Misao sighed. She knew that there was nothing more she could say on the matter.

* * *

The trip back to the Aoiya was uneventful. However, Misao's reception at home was rather unusual. Aoshi seemed to appear out of nowhere the instant Misao entered the place. "Okina and I need to talk with you."

Misao nodded and they proceeded to Okina's room. Okina was quietly eating a small dinner that had been prepared for him by Omasu. The look on his face was grim.

"There's no doubt about it," said Okina as they entered, "It is no longer safe in Kyoto for Soujiro."

"That government agent nearly found him in the Aoiya," added Aoshi, "If it had not been for Okon's quick thinking, Soujiro might be in the custody of the authorities right now."

Misao blinked in surprise. She had no idea Okon's warning had been so urgent. "But Soujiro is still training under Hiko. He won't like it if his apprentice has to leave again so suddenly."

"According to the doctor, Soujiro isn't going to be able to go anywhere for a while yet anyway," said Okina, "Fortunately, Sir Hiko's reputation as a recluse and the further fact that he is living under a pseudonym will keep Saitou's agents from finding him for a while yet."

"We have to get Soujiro out of Kyoto as soon as he is ready to travel," added Aoshi, "Even if he is well hidden with Sir Hiko, it will not be long before they manage to track him down."

"Where will he go then?" asked Misao, "Even though he'd be able to travel, he'd still need to find somewhere to rest and let his wounds heal completely."

"Why not take Soujiro to the Kamiya dojo in Tokyo?" suggested Okina, "I'm more than certain that Mr. Himura would be glad to take the boy in."

"But still," argued Aoshi, "The authorities and Saitou especially know that that would be the first place Soujiro would run to."

"However," retorted Okina, "Due to the fact that Kenshin Himura has done so many favors for the government, I don't doubt that they would balk at the thought of searching his home for a fugitive. I've heard that the police chief in Tokyo respects Mr. Himura's word greatly."

"But how do we get Soujiro to Tokyo from Kyoto?" Misao wanted to know, "Almost all the major means of travel are under police supervision. That rules out train, boat and carriage."

"Meaning that all things considered, Soujiro will have to walk to Tokyo," replied Aoshi, "Despite the government's best efforts, the footpaths between the two cities aren't as well monitored as the other means of transportation.

"So it's settled then," announced Okina, "Soujiro will be traveling by foot to the Kamiya dojo in Tokyo."

"Not by himself he isn't," said Misao, "Being well enough to travel doesn't mean his wounds will be completely healed, especially not to the point where he can fend for himself. I'm going with him to help the guy along in any way that I can."

"But Misao…" protested Okina. However, Aoshi cut him off.

"Misao is right in saying that Soujiro is not in a state where he can travel alone. I believe that she is the one best qualified to go with him," he stated firmly.

"If that is your wish Aoshi," Okina conceded.

"Misao may serve another purpose for the Oniwaban while she is there," continued Aoshi.

Misao's eyes lit up. Aoshi had been teaching her how to move and fight like a true ninja, but he hadn't actually given her any tasks that were suited for the skills he had given her. Perhaps now she would be able to put those skills to use.

"The events of the previous year and current circumstances have led me to an important conclusion," said Aoshi, "The Meiji government is still too young to be fully stable to help protect itself from another major threat. Thus, it falls on the shoulders of the Oniwaban Group to protect Japan from further threats. Your mission Misao, besides escorting Soujiro to Tokyo, will be to reestablish the Tokyo branch of the Oniwaban Group."

Misao could barely contain her joy. She was going to take part in a real Oniwaban Group mission. Not only that, but she was going to be contributing to the reconstruction of their organization.

"Let us hope that it doesn't take Soujiro too long to recover," remarked Okina.

* * *

"Well," said Saitou wearily as Akemi came into his office.

Akemi looked her superior and her mentor over ass she weighed her response with his current mood. Saitou looked rather haggard, bur that was understandable, considering that he had just been to Osaka and back. But there was something more in his eyes, something she was certain that she had never seen before. _Is that anxiety?_ she wondered.

Saitou patiently bore the weight of Akemi's observation while he waited for her report. Finally, Akemi decided that it was alright to tell it to him straight. _As if I had a choice even if I didn't think it was okay,_ she thought ruefully. "We've lost the Tenken again."

Saitou sighed, looking more fatigued than before. "I was afraid of that," he muttered.

"However," interjected Akemi, "I do believe I have a plan that will allow us to catch him for certain." She went on to explain her theory about Soujiro going to Tokyo and hiding out at the Kamiya dojo. Saitou took this information and seemed to draw a little reassurance from it.

"Very good," he replied after a moment's thought, "I was fairly certain that if Soujiro ever left Kyoto that would be his first destination. And Himura most certainly wouldn't balk at the thought of letting that young man stay at his home, once he knows that Soujiro's intentions are benign."

"Perhaps we could leak information to Himura through the police in Tokyo that Soujiro is headed his way and is looking for revenge," suggested Akemi.

"That will most likely not work," replied Saitou. "Kenshin Himura is a thorough man and not one to believe what is told to him outright, even if it does come from an officer of the law. He is likely to go and try to confront Soujiro himself, and when he sees the Tenken in his current state, he will know for certain that it is a ruse."

"Then that leaves me with only one option," said Akemi, her voice suddenly growing very cold, "I will have to go to that dojo and confront the Tenken myself."

"If you're going to confront him in battle, wait until his injuries have mended first, then fight him," instructed Saitou, "That way, if he changes his mind, he will not be as battered as he would be otherwise."

"Very well," replied Akemi. She bowed respectfully, "I will be on my way then. I trust you will be discreet about the matter of my departure."

"My dear lady," said Saitou mockingly, "Whatever gave you the impression that you were ever here?"

Akemi laughed before heading out the door. Once she was gone, Saitou's face fell as he once again turned his mind to the fateful events that had occurred at the prison in Osaka.

* * *

Once Misao had gone, Okina turned to face Aoshi. "What news from Osaka?" he asked.

Aoshi looked more than a little disconcerted by the memory of what he had seen there. "I now have reason to believe, that the worst has happened."

"The worst?" Okina raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"It is possible that Makoto Shishio may somehow still be alive," said Aoshi bluntly.

Okina balked and nearly fainted. "But!" he exclaimed, "You said yourself that you had seen him burned alive!"

Aoshi nodded in agreement. But his eyes told Okina that Aoshi was no longer convinced about what he had seen. Something in Okina's mind clicked. "It's not the first time that someone watched Shishio as he was burned alive," he said voicing Aoshi's exact thoughts aloud.

"I fear that what happened eleven years ago may once again be the case now," said Aoshi.

"Should we have told Misao?" wondered Okina.

"She would not take the news very well," replied Aoshi.

"And through her, Soujiro would learn of it," added Okina.

Aoshi nodded, though he didn't think that it would be the cause of much harm if Soujiro knew that Shishio was thought to be alive. After all, according to Himura, Soujiro had taken his leave while Shishio had been alive and still in good health, meaning that the fact that Shishio might still be alive wouldn't in any way affect Soujiro's decision to wander and keep himself from Shishio's service.

Okina looked very troubled. "This is dark news indeed," he said.

* * *

Weeks passed. Neither Saitou nor Aoshi got any new leads on the matter of Makoto Shishio's possible survival. And during that time, Soujiro's health improved considerably. By the end of the month, it looked as if he was fit enough to make the journey to Tokyo.

Soujiro was packing as best he could with one free hand when Hiko came to his room. "Why are you leaving?" demanded Seijuro Hiko, "Your training isn't finished yet. Are you going to pull the same stunt that Kenshin did when he was my apprentice and abandon me on some self-appointed quest?"

"Not at all, Hiko Sensei," replied Soujiro, "But I don't believe that I can complete my training here and now."

That got Hiko's attention, "And so you're leaving because you don't feel up to learning the rest of the Hiten Mitsurugi style?" he inquired.

"That's not it either," answered Soujiro, "It's just that, I think that my schooling has progressed as far as it can under you. In order for me to learn what it takes to master the final secrets of the Hiten Mitsurugi, I must begin learning from a new teacher, life."

"Elaborate," ordered Hiko.

"Right now, my body won't be up to training for another month or two at the very least," explained Soujiro, "And while my physical development may continue, it won't get me anywhere near to being ready to learn the Final Attack.

"As you know, I have seen the Amakakeru-Ryu-No-Hirameki for myself and I know what it takes to execute that technique. That also means that I know that I do not have what is required for me to use as I am right now. The Final Attack requires a strong will to live in order to be used properly. Towards that end, I must go out and find my reason for living, what I'm exactly supposed to be doing with the skills passed unto me in the Hiten Mitsurugi style."

Hiko smiled and nodded sagely. "You've grown far more than you realize," he said, "Few people can do what you just did. A sign of true potential in the martial arts in general, swordsmanship in particular is the ability to realize and acknowledge your own limits. You understand that you do not have the ability to learn the ultimate attack of the Hiten Mitsurugi and that you can not find the solution to your dilemma here.

"Go then and find the answer for yourself. But I'm giving you a limit. You have one year to find what it is that you need to learn the Amakakeru-Ryu-No-Hirameki. You will have one year from the day your injuries are fully healed. Once that year has passed, return to me, whether you have found your answer or not. At that time, you will face the trials of the Final Attack." Hiko turned around to leave. But he stopped and looked over his shoulder. "One way or another Soujiro, you will be my last apprentice. So do your best to make sure that you are ready. Oh, and by the way, take Takezo with you. Since you're going, go to Tokyo first while your wounds are healing. I think that it is time that Takezo finally settled this issue between him and Kenshin."

"Well, that was where I was planning on going in any case," replied Soujiro, "I'll be glad to have Takezo come with me."

Hiko nodded and left.

* * *

Soujiro was still packing when he heard footsteps approaching from outside the house. They were much too heavy to belong to Takezo or Misao, and Hiko was probably out by his kiln. Curious as to whom it could be, Soujiro went out to see who their unexpected visitor could be.

He got quite the surprise when he opened the door to the house. "Mr. Chou," he said, quite thoroughly surprised.

"Well well," said the blonde swordsman, "If it aint our faverit liddle Tenken." Chou was smiling widely, squinting one eye as he always did. As usual his Kansai accent made his words tricky to understand.

"Are you here to…?"

"Heh!" Chou snorted in amusement. "I've been given time off fer good behavior, seein as I've gone done so much for those guys in the government. Saitou decided ta' let me off'a the leash fer the time bein. I've got a couple 'o weeks down time before I've got'ta go back to my job. While I'm off duty, I'd thought I'd drop by and see how our liddle swordsman's been getten on these days."

"So you're not here in official capacity?" inquired Soujiro curiously.

"Ya think I'd be so quick to turn in my old partners, partner," said Chou, "We done spent a good eight years worken together under Lord Shishio. It's my day off from the police, so I don't owe them nothin."

"I take it things have been going well for you then," said Soujiro, his mood much better now that he knew that he wasn't in danger of being apprehended.

"Well, ya win some, ya lose some." Chou chuckled good-naturedly. "At least I ken say that I didn't get the short end 'o the stick."

"I suppose that is something," said Soujiro cordially, "So if you aren't here to arrest me, then what are you here for?"

Chou seemed to change his personality quite suddenly. "Well actually…" he said rather sheepishly, "I'm here ta' ask ya'all a favor."

"A favor?" asked Soujiro rather curiously.

"Yeah," replied Chou, "Ya see, right before I was caught by the Battousai, I did something that, now when I look back on it and all, I aint too proud of."

Soujiro nodded, encouraging Chou to continue.

Chou sighed and sat down on the landing by where Soujiro was standing. Soujiro sat down next to him. "I had just arrived at Lord Shishio's hideout from Osaka. It was around that time that the Battousai was lookin' for a new sword to suit his fancy after ya'all broke his old one. I came just in time to learn that the Battousai had visited the son of the late Shakku Arai. I also learned at that time the Shakku's son had been holdin out on the Battousai and was keeping a special sword that his daddy made, the last work of Shakku. And…well…well, you know me."

Soujiro smiled knowingly and nodded. "You and your swords Mr. Chou."

Chou laughed amusedly again. "Ya'all've got me there. Yeah, I couldn't let a perfectly good piece 'o work like that go to waste. So I decided to pay the swordsmith's son a liddle visit. Well, who else should I run into down there but the swordsmith's grandson.

"After a liddle chat with Sir Seikku, I learned that he didn't have Shakku's last work. I got a liddle peeved and decided to use his kid to see if he was lyin' or not. Turned out the guy wasn't lyin'. He didn't have Shakku's sword, but he did know where it was. His wife cracked when I decided to use the liddle kid for some 'o my sword practice. I decided to take the kid with me so I could test out my new sword." There, Chou's face fell.

"I see," said Soujiro knowingly, "Now that you've had time to look back on that incident, you're ashamed that you ever did it."

Chou nodded. "I've been wantin' to apologize for some time now. But, I don't think I can show my face to them. If Himura hadn't kicked my can halfway ta' Hell and back, I know what I would've done and I really would've done wrong. How can I just go up to them and ask for forgiveness just like that?"

"I understand," said Soujiro, "You want me to accompany you to help you to find the strength to ask their forgiveness."

"Yeah," answered Chou after a moment.

"Well," said Soujiro, cheerfully, "There's certainly no sense in delaying then, so why don't we go now."

"Say what!" yelped Chou.

"I'm about to leave Kyoto, so why don't we stop by this smith's home before I go on my way." Soujiro laughed. "I'd better finish packing."

He jumped up and rushed inside the house. Chou looked down at his feet and smiled slightly. "He's a good kid. Shishio did right in takin' him in. That he could find fault in a guy like that…Matahachi must've been one hell of an idiot."

* * *

Half an hour later, Soujiro finished packing and greeted Chou on the porch. Takezo was still nowhere nearby. But Soujiro figured it wouldn't be too hard to find the mute if he had to look for him. Together, Soujiro and Chou set off to earn the Sword Hunter's absolution.

As they passed through town, Soujiro noticed that he and Chou received many odd glances. But they were all directed to the blond sword collector. Chou's attention gaining affect combined with Soujiro's knowledge of how to hide in broad daylight were sufficient to keep anyone from noticing the young man traveling at Chou's side. If there was anything Soujiro had learned about being a manslayer, it was that distractions were the best kind of cover.

They eventually came to a small shop. Lined out on the front table were some of the wares the place had for sale. They were knives for kitchens. But Soujiro noticed that for such mundane tools, their craftsmanship greatly resembled that of a true Japanese sword. Despite that, their prices were absurdly low. The next thing he noticed was the young toddler playing out front with a little top. The next instant, Chou ground to a halt, his eyes fixed on the young child. Soujiro noted that those eyes were filled with remorse.

Seeing that his former comrade in arms wasn't about to make the first move, Soujiro decided to do so on Chou's behalf. Walking up, Soujiro bent down to look at the child, putting on his best greeting smile as he addressed they little boy. "Excuse me," he said tentatively, "But do you know where I might find your father?"

The boy, having finally noticed Soujiro looked up at him and returned the young man's smile. He the turned to look back at the shop. "Daddy!" he shouted gleefully.

A very average looking man with a towel draped around his shoulders came out. Soujiro didn't think he had seen anyone who looked so inoffensive in his entire life. From his position the man couldn't see Chou, who was still standing, rooted in place down the road a ways.

"Begging your pardon," said Soujiro politely, "But do I have the honor of addressing Sir Seikku Arai?"

"I am him," replied the man pleasantly, "How may I help you?"

"Well," said Soujiro rather sheepishly, "It isn't really for me, but a friend of mine. And I do believe that you have met him before." He gestured to Chou who came closer and finally stepped in the Seikku's view.

Seikku let out a startled yelp of recognition. In an instant he had swooped down to pick up his child and was about to rush back inside when Chou shouted out. "Wait!" The tone was that of a plea for assistance, not the command of a mad killer. Seikku stopped when he realized this and slowly turned around to face the man who had at one time, nearly killed his beloved son.

The look on Chou's face was utterly miserable. "I didn't come here ta' hurt anyone," he said, "Ta' be honest, I've done a lot've soul searchin' in the past year. And I've come ta' realize that I need to set things straight with ya'all or I'll never be able to live with myself."

Seikku gave Chou a curious look. "You mean you just came here to apologize."

Chou nodded. Seikku gave him a nervous look before stepping back to the door. "Come on in," he said, quite softly.

Inside, Seikku's wife was preparing dinner. "It sound's like we have guests, dear," she said without so much as a look.

"Um…" said Seikku, not wanting to startle his wife, "You might want to delay dinner for a while."

"And why's that?" asked his wife, turning around for the first time. She spotted Chou and immediately her eyes widened and her hands came up to cover her mouth and stifle the scream that would have undoubtedly emerged.

Soujiro, who had been silent for a while, threw up his hands in a placating gesture. "Please miss," he said cheerfully, "Mr. Chou isn't here to threaten you or anything. Actually, he's here to apologize for behaving so badly the last time you met him."

Azusa gave Soujiro an incredulous glance before turning to look back at Chou. She then glanced back at he husband. "I think you're right about dinner."

They seated themselves on thin floor pads. Chou and Soujiro sat in one side of the room while Seikku and his wife, who was cradling their young son in her arms, sat on the other side. Chou had set down all of his swords on his left side, stacking them like a small pile of firewood. The child wasn't in the least bit intimidated by Chou's presence and in fact seemed completely oblivious to the room's tension, squealing and squirming in his mother's arms like this was all some sort of game.

Chou looked at the couple across from him with both eyes, something he didn't usually do. "I guess I've got some explainin' ta' do," said Chou after a moment. He sighed. "But I'm not sure where in the heck I'm supposed ta' start."

"You could try starting with the apology," Soujiro cheerfully suggested. He wasn't really feeling all that happy. The solemn setting had settled itself over his shoulders like a blanket that was too heavy for this time of year. It was smothering him under the weight of the seriousness of the situation. In an effort to relieve that weight, Soujiro did what he did best and smiled cheerfully to try and loosen up the emotions of others. Just that thought brought back memories of his time with Shishio.

* * *

"Soujiro," Shishio said to him once, "Do you know what your most useful quality is?"

"What is it Mr. Shishio?" Soujiro replied, smiling from ear to ear. A lot had happened in the last few days. First Chou had been defeated and apprehended by Mr. Himura. Then, Soujiro had arrived in Kyoto with the three Juppongatana from the eastern half of Japan. On their way to Mr. Shishio's lair, they had stopped to convince Aoshi Shinomori to come with them. They had succeeded. Then came the failed attack on the Aoiya, Aoshi's battle with Okina, and finally, Mr. Houji's baptism of fire under Mr. Shishio.

"Your most useful tool is your smile," said Shishio.

"My smile?" For a moment, Soujiro was a little bit confused. He had always thought that it was his swordsmanship that made him so useful to Mr. Shishio.

"It's true," replied Shishio, who chuckled at Soujiro's baffled look. "Yes, your swordsmanship is without a doubt among the best, second only to me in strength and skill. But your greatest tool is without a doubt your smile."

"And why is that Mr. Shishio?" asked Soujiro.

"A smile can do things that are impossible for even the sharpest sword. It serves many purposes. It can lighten the mood in even the most serious situation, unnerve the most unshakable of foes, and convince the most stubborn of fools. And don't forget; your smile is what saved you that night we first met."

Soujiro's already broad smile widened even further. "I guess I have to agree with you Mr. Shishio."

* * *

Chou looked Seikku in the eye. "I'm sorry," he said simply, "I wish there was some way I could think of ta' show how sincere-like I really am about this, but this's the best thing I can think of.

"What I did ta' yer kid back then was absolutely despicable. And every time I think about et I just want ta' crawl under a rock and hide from the world. I'm ashamed that I ever had the nerve to call myself a swordsman when the bravest thing I could do was kidnap a liddle baby just so I could lay my hands on some glorified hunk of sharpened steel." Chou practically prostrated himself on the floor. "I hope ya'all can find it in yer hearts ta' fergive me. But if ya'all can't then I'll understand."

Azusa let out a little yelp as her child finally managed to squirm out of her arms. Standing up, the child toddled over to Chou's still prostrated form. The boy set himself down in front of Chou's head with a small thump. Soujiro noticed that the child was still laughing and smiling. "Broom!" shouted the boy excitedly.

Chou lifted his head off the floor to look at the child in front of him. The child smiled and laughed again. "Broom!" he shouted again. He then extended a tiny hand towards Chou's face. "Shake hands!" he squealed. Eyes rather wide, Chou sat up.

"Shake hands!" the child demanded.

More than a little surprised, Chou actually extended his right hand tentatively towards the boy. Still smiling and laughing, the boy wrapped his small hand around one of Chou's extended fingers.

Beside Chou, Soujiro laughed, feeling genuinely happy for the first time since they had entered the house. "It appears that the little one has forgiven you," he said between chuckles.

When they recovered their wits, both Seikku and Azusa smiled slightly. Then they too began to laugh. Chou however never did start laughing. He simply smiled slightly at the little boy who gripped one of his fingers.

* * *

After they accepted Chou's apology, Seikku and his wife graciously invited the two former Juppongatanas to stay for dinner. Chou accepted. However, Soujiro had other ideas. "I'm afraid I'll have to decline," he said, "I'm going on a trip and I have to be on my way before nightfall." He began walking towards the Tokkaido trail.

"Hold up there partner!" shouted Chou. Soujiro stopped and turned to look at him.

Chou smiled. "Before ya'all get on yer way, I've got a liddle present here fore ya'. He pulled out one of the swords he had tucked under his arm. It was in a shira-saya, which was rather unusual for Chou since he never had concealed his swords even when he was carrying them illegally. He tossed the sword to Soujiro. Soujiro carefully withdrew the blade from its sheath to examine it.

The blade was beautifully made. Soujiro could tell right away that it was extremely strong and very sharp. It was one of the finest swords he had ever seen. In fact, it looked very familiar.

"That there's the principle forge of the Kikuichimonji Norimune," said Chou, "It isn't a well known fact, but the swordsmith who made the original also made an improved copy after he gave the old one to Okita of the Shinsengumi. I figured it would make a nice partin' gift since it's supposed ta' be better than the one you used to use and I figured that it would be fittin'. Now you and the Battousai have something more in common."

Soujiro looked up at Chou. "I can't thank you enough for this Mr. Chou. I'll take the best care I can of it."

Chou laughed. "You do that," he said, "And never ferget what I told ya' about swords partner. Take care now ya' hear."

Soujiro started walking again. He looked over his shoulder and waved as he went. "I will Mr. Chou," he shouted back over his shoulder, "You make sure that you take care of yourself." And he was gone.

* * *

Seikku looked over at Chou after Soujiro had left. "Who was that young man?" he asked.

"I don't know if the Battousai told ya'all about this or not, but that guy was the one who busted up his old sword so badly," replied Chou.

"You mean that young man was the reason Mr. Himura had to seek me out to find a new sword?" said a stunned Seikku.

"That's right," answered Chou, "I'll tell ya' the whole story. But first, how about we go on in and have a liddle bit of dinner that this lovely liddle lady's prepared fer us."

* * *

Soujiro had slung his traveling sack over his good shoulder. He was a fair ways down the road when he met his companions. Misao and Takezo waited side by side, both with their own traveling gear.

"Ms. Misao," said Soujiro, rather surprised, "You're coming with us."

"Of course I am," declared Misao, "You didn't think I'd let you guys leave me out of the fun traveling to Himura's place now did'ya."

"Oh," said Soujiro rather awkwardly.

"Besides, I have a job to do," announced Misao, "Lord Aoshi has entrusted me with the task of rebuilding the Tokyo Oniwaban."

"That's wonderful Ms. Misao," said Soujiro gleefully. Beside her, Takezo nodded his head in agreement.

"Well then," said Soujiro, "Shall we be on our way?"

"You bet!" exclaimed Misao. Takezo also nodded his assent.

"Well then," said Soujiro, "I guess we're all going to go visit Mr. Himura."

* * *

Akemi calmly looked out the window at the landscape as it flashed by. She had gotten a first class ticket, which gave her a small compartment all to herself. Even though it was large enough to hold up to six people, Akemi had paid extra money to make sure that she had the whole place to herself. On the seat across the seat from her was a long, rectangular box. That box contained Akemi's most precious possessions.

_Rest well Tenken,_ she thought calmly, _I want you to be at your best when I destroy you._ She smiled grimly as the train continued onward, heading for Tokyo.

* * *

Author's Note: Yeah, I know this chapter is way shorter than most. But it was a transitional piece meant to get us to the next big event in the plot, which will involve Soujiro meeting Kenshin for the first time since their fight. I can't tell you any details about what's going to happen. Akemi and Soujiro have yet to come face to face and I'm not sure if they do or they don't in the first chapter. Just as a sort of guide, Akemi's meeting with Soujiro is going to be slightly reminiscent of Saitou's meeting with Kenshin at the beginning of the Kyoto Arc.

And while we're on that subject, it might be prudent for me to elaborate on the canon of this story, which takes place approximately one year after the end of the Kyoto arc. The plot pretty much ignores everything which comes after which includes the Shimabara and Jinchu arcs. I can't say for certain, but I might have those take place in this story as a portion of the mains storyline with little bits and pieces tying them together. That said, it may be just as likely that I will not do that and save that idea for another fiction. Either way I haven't decided. And now, on to the character notes.

Chou: No, those are not misspellings. That is my rather feeble attempt at emulating Chou's dialect as it was portrayed in the dubbed version of the series. Chou is from Kansai, a region which has a reputation for its unique dialect. In dubbed versions of Anime with characters from Kansai, that dialect is usually portrayed as something resembling a southern country accent (making him sound something like a homicidal, psychopathic cowboy). In any case, I chose to do it that way because, well it sounded sort of right for a guy like Chou.

About his little adventure with Soujiro: For a character who makes appearances in multiple arcs, I think Chou should have a more well developed character than he did. I thought it would be cool to portray Chou as somebody who's mellowed out since his days in the Juppongatana. There will be a few remarks on his character in later chapters as well as a few more appearances.

Shishio: Yes, I know I'm opening a gaping plot hole by using this idea (this discounts the whole scene with Shishio and co. in Hell), but as far as my story's concerned, this is essential to Soujiro's development as a character. One of the crucial parts will be his confrontation with his former mentor, basically bringing Soujiro's past into confrontation with his future. The details on this will become more apparent as the story progresses.

Well I hope that everyone enjoys this chapter.


	8. To Tokyo: The Long Journey Eastward

Disclaimer: This story has been disclaimed.

AN: At long last, it is finished. Not the story, mind you, but the chapter certainly. This is another slow chapter, but things to pick up a little bit. The next chapter is where all the fun begins. And I shouldn't have any trouble getting that one out in short order. I would like to thank all of my readers (those of you who are left) for their immense patience in waiting for me to get this out.

**Chapter 8: To ****Tokyo****: The Long Journey Eastward**

Misao watched as Takezo took the blade to Soujiro's new sword and fit it into the white-bound hilt of the Kikuichimonji. After pounding the holding nail in, Takezo resheathed the blade and calmly presented the whole thing back to Soujiro. Soujiro accepted the weapon gratefully. "Thank you," he said, "It would have been a little difficult for me to attach the handle with only one hand."

Misao bent and looked at Soujiro very suspiciously. "So you're telling me that that sword was a parting gift from that broom-head you used to go around with?"

Soujiro, not quite sure what to make of Misao's expression backed away slightly and nodded. "That's right," he replied, "Mr. Chou's changed his ways, so you don't have to worry."

CRACK! Soujiro yelped as Misao's fist made a smashing impact on his head. "You dolt!" she snapped, "It's because that man's reformed that we have to worry! He works for the cops now…Remember!"

Soujiro was rubbing the top of his had while smiling forlornly. "I trust Mr. Chou more than that Ms. Misao. After all, the reason he called on me was to ask for help in resolving his problem with Mr. Arai."

Misao was baffled. "You mean he wanted to go show his face to those people again," she said in wonder, "After all he did to them."

Soujiro's tone became stern. "It was because of what he did to them that Mr. Chou wanted to go back. He wanted to apologize to them."

"Really?" asked Misao in wonder, "Who knew the broom-head had it in him."

"Mr. Chou is quite an honest fellow," said Soujiro, "He certainly was back when he first joined the Juppongatana. After he met us, he began to change a little."

Misao looked down at Soujiro's new sword. "I never thought a guy like him would have such a high class weapon like this."

Soujiro chuckled. "He is a sword collector after all."

Misao shrugged. "What would anyone want with that many swords?"

Soujiro smiled and laughed. "I believe I can understand," he said, "Mr. Chou once told me why he collected swords."

"Do tell," prompted Misao.

Soujiro chuckled and used his free hand to partially draw his new blade. He turned it so that the blade reflected the light of their campfire, giving the cold steel a warm orange sheen. "So beautiful," he commented offhandedly, "Just like the one Mr. Chou gave me back then."

"You mean Chou gave you your first sword," gasped Misao, "I thought Shishio was the one who did that."

"Mr. Shishio did indeed give me the Wakizashi that was my first sword," confirmed Soujiro, "But the Kikuichimonji Norimune; the sword wielded by Okita of the Shinsengumi during the bloodshed of the Revolution was given to me by Mr. Chou. It was a gift."

"A gift," Misao could scarcely imagine a man like Chou doing something like that.

"It's a little hard to believe, I know. However, it is true." Soujiro smiled as widely as he could. "When you think about it, it's also hard to believe that a man as wild and independent as Mr. Chou could ever join any kind of group, even one as loose as the Juppongatana."

"You do have a point," agreed Misao, holding her chin thoughtfully, "It's hard seeing that broom-head cooperating with anyone. I wonder how Saitou keeps him in line."

"Most likely the threat of a very painful death if he strays," suggested Soujiro, grinning, "But in any case, I was going to tell you about his swords."

"You're the one who got off topic," Misao pointed out.

Soujiro nodded vigorously. "True true." He clapped his hands together. "But in any case, let's continue.

"You see, after me, Chou was the first person to join the Juppongatana. Mr. Shishio and I met him right after we had arrived in Kyoto for the first time…Well, it was my first time. Mr. Shishio had already been to Kyoto several times before me, of course.

"Back then Chou was the legendary sword hunting demon who stole great swords and killed their owners, no matter who those people may have been. When we met him in the street, he immediately noticed Mr. Shishio's sword. When he found out what it was, Mr. Chou didn't hesitate to demand it.

"Mr. Shishio wasn't in a fighting mood then so he told me to take care of it."

"Wow," said Misao, "I'm surprised the broom-head's still alive today."

"I wasn't that good back then," replied Soujiro, "When we first met Mr. Chou, I had been traveling with Mr. Shishio for a little more than a month, so my skills weren't all that noteworthy. I hadn't even learned the Shukuchi yet. When Chou attacked with his Hakujin, he nearly defeated me. It was a close fight.

"I did win in the end. But Mr. Shishio stopped me from killing Mr. Chou. I guess he thought the Mr. Chou could be useful. Mr. Chou was impressed and he was probably wondering that if I was strong enough to beat him, what kind of swordsman Mr. Shishio might be.

"Mr. Shishio invited Mr. Chou to participate in his great overthrow. Mr. Chou didn't hesitate to agree. As a sign of good faith, he presented Mr. Shishio with the Nagasone Kotetsu as a gift."

"That's the sword you broke in your fight with Himura at Shingetsu village," exclaimed Misao.

Soujiro nodded. "That's right. Mr. Chou gave that sword to Mr. Shishio personally."

"But if I remember what Himura told us correctly, the Kikuichimonji Norimune is an even better sword than the Nagasone Kotetsu," commented Misao. Takezo nodded in agreement. "Why would he give you a better sword than the one he gave your master?" Misao continued.

"Ah you see," replied Soujiro, "That's where it gets interesting…"

* * *

"You wanted to see me Mr. Chou?" asked little Soujiro, coming into the room.

Chou leaned back against the wall casually and looked the boy over with a single critical eye. Standing up, the boy would have barely been able to reach up past the sword-hunter's waist. And yet, this was the same young man who had defeated him only a few nights ago. The man suppressed a chuckle when he noticed the Wakizashi at the child's side. Even though he wasn't even a teenager, Soujiro already looked like a little samurai. The wakizashi, a short sword from Chou's or Shishio's point of view, was the perfect full-length sword for little Soujiro.

"Yeah," said Chou finally. Soujiro seated himself, resting on his knees in the normal manner, facing Chou with the brilliant smile that he always wore. Once again, Chou had to marvel at the young man before him. Where had Shishio found someone with so much potential?

To cover up both his amusement and admiration, Chou grunted and coughed a little. "I just wanted ta give ya a liddle present ta let'ya know there aint no hard feel'ens."

Soujiro nodded again, though he looked a little confused. "A present?" he asked.

Once again, Chou was forced to reevaluate the boy. Normally, a child Soujiro's age would have gone ballistic with delight at the mere mention of the P-word. But Soujiro had barely raised his eyebrows and maintained a look of polite confusion. What environment had given birth to a child like this?

Chou kept his thoughts to himself as he answered Soujiro's query. "That's right liddle feller. I didn't want'ya ta think I was sore about you beat'en me and all. We're go'in ta be work'en tagether for a good long time, so I figered I'd give ya a present so we can be friends."

Soujiro's already cheerful mood seemed to brighten considerably. "Really," he said, "You would like to be friends Mr. Chou?"

Chou nodded. Reaching behind him, the man pulled out the sword resting against the wall next to him. Behaving almost reverently, he set the sword in front of Soujiro. The full-length katana was much too large for the boy to wield, but Chou knew that Soujiro would grow into it.

Soujiro looked at the sword in confusion. "For me?" he asked.

"That's right kiddo," replied Chou, "That there's the Kikuichimonji Norimune. It's the same sword Okita of the Shinsengumi used dur'en the Revolution. In fact, it's supposed ta be even better than that sword I gave yer boss."

"Really," exclaimed Soujiro. Carefully, the young man pulled the sword close and drew it partially from the sheath. He gasped in awe as the small amount of moonlight streaming in from the window behind him reflected off the blade, turning it a brilliant and beautiful blue color.

Chou chuckled. "I see ya know how ta appreciate a good piece 'o work kiddo."

"But why would you give me something better than what you gave Mr. Shishio?" asked Soujiro, "Won't he be angry."

"Not at all," replied Chou, "The boss'n me've got an understand'en. The Nagasone wasn't more than a howdy-dowdy. He don't need an extra special sword 'cause he's already got the best dern blade ever made. That Kotetsu I gave 'im 'll end up being a fancy ornament to keep around when he holds his court.

"What he'll really appreciate me give'en ya somethin ya'all can use. 'Cause soon, Lord Shishio's gonna be need'en ya ta be do'en all sorts of things for 'im. And when ya'all grow inta it, that sword's gonna be the best damn thing ya've ever had. He'll appreciate it because someday, that sword's gonna help ya ta serve 'im even better then ya do now."

"You mean it!" exclaimed Soujiro gleefully, "I'll be able to better serve Master Shishio?"

Chou couldn't stop a chuckle or a smug smile from creeping out of him. Now the boy really was behaving like a child his age should. It was strange, but amusing nonetheless.

Soujiro looked up from admiring his sword to glance at Chou again. "Why do you like swords so much Mr. Chou?" he asked.

"Why kid?" Chou stared thoughtfully out the window. "Why indeed?"

For a moment, Chou's face seemed to change. He seemed calmer than Soujiro had ever seen him act. Chou picked up one of the other swords lying at his side and drew it partially, considering the blade's keen edge.

"Let me tell ya somethin' kiddo," Chou began softly, "There aint no sword like a bonafide Japanese sword. Ya can travel around the world an' ya won't find nothin' better then a real Japanese sword. An let me tell ya why."

Chou fully drew the sword he was holding, letting the light of the moon play upon its entire length. "When a swordsmith makes one 'o these babies, he doesn't just churn it out like some damn piece 'o equipment. A smith puts 'is 'eart an' soul inta' each and every blade. And then, when a samurai uses that sword, he treats it like a part 'o his'self.

"The history 'o this country is written with swords kiddo. Each and every blade has a story ta' tell. And every story is worth listenin' to. That's why I like these swords so much. I like the feelen' 'o holden' that history, those stories in my hands. It feels better than anythin' else in the world.

"When I stole my first sword, I weren't much older than you are now kiddo. Back then, I was just thief. But then, one time I couldn't get a sword without gettin' through its owner, so I killed 'im. Then I realized how much fun it was ta kill with a sword and decided I'd become a swordsman." Chou finished, sheathing the sword with a flourish and a wink.

"Wow," exclaimed Soujiro, "You really are something Mr. Chou."

Chou chuckled. "That's right kiddo. An don't you ferget it."

* * *

"To think that Chou the Sword Hunter would say something like that," murmured Misao.

"There's a lot more to him than most people think," replied Soujiro.

"But he still got way too carried away when he threatened that family," muttered Misao.

Soujiro nodded and looked thoughtfully into the fire. "I suppose that's true. But he went and made things right with them. I suppose he is free from that guilt now."

Misao looked at the sword Soujiro was still holding. "I don't see why you want to carry that thing openly," she commented, "With your sword-arm out of commission as it is, do you want to advertise the fact that you're carrying a real sword?"

Soujiro considered the weapon that he had rested up against his shoulder. "I suppose you're right. But then again it feels better to have it at my side, even if I can't use it."

Misao shrugged nonchalantly. "Suit yourself." She yawned and leaned back. "Take the first watch, Takezo," she said. The mute swordsman nodded. "Wake me up for the second," she added, before letting her eyes close.

"Um, Ms. Misao," said Soujiro, "What about me?"

Without opening her eyes, Misao answered. "You're still injured and you need to rest as much as possible. We're traveling a fair distance, which is going to slow down your healing even more. So you need all the rest you can get."

Soujiro blinked and smiled softly at the ninja. "Thank you, Ms. Misao."

* * *

The day dawned brightly as Soujiro slowly awakened. Misao was already attending the fire. Suspended over the flame were several fish that had been impaled on sticks driven in the ground. A slight crackling could be heard as their flesh cooked in the heat. The aroma rising from them made the young man's mouth water.

"Good morning," said Misao cheerfully.

"A good morning to you, Ms. Misao," replied Soujiro.

Beside Soujiro, Takezo slowly began to stir. Within seconds, he was instantly awake. He looked at Soujiro, then Misao. Then he reached out for one of the fish. With a soft smack, Misao slapped away his questing hand.

"Oh no you don't," she admonished a now sheepish looking Takezo, "You're going to wait until the fish is done."

Soujiro laughed at the guilty look in Takezo's eyes. "Takezo always has been a bit quick when it came to breakfast," he commented.

Half an hour later, they were underway. They moved along at an easy pace, Misao and Soujiro walking side by side up front while Takezo brought up the rear. The road was almost completely deserted. Only the occasional traveler passed them by. Soujiro inhaled the fresh air deeply and sighed. "This always was my favorite part," he said.

"What's that?" asked Misao.

"When I served Mr. Shishio," replied Soujiro, "Some of the jobs he gave me to do were far away from where we were at our headquarters. Walking like this when I went from one job to the other was always my favorite part. I used to go all over Japan."

"Did you always do it to kill someone," asked Misao, all but wrecking Soujiro's good mood.

"Not always," he said softly, "But often enough. Sometimes, I delivered messages that Mr. Shishio thought were too sensitive to entrust to anyone else. I also went on other important errands. But yes, he usually did send me out to kill someone."

"Sorry," said Misao, realizing that he was feeling guilty about what he had done.

"It's alright," replied Soujiro, "Not talking about it won't change the fact that I did kill people. It's important that I remember what I did. Anything I did to make up for the wrongs I did would have no meaning if I simply pretended that I never did anything in the first place."

Misao smiled at him. "All you need to do is resolve yourself to do better than you used to," she said, "And as long as you keep working to follow through, you'll have already made up for everything that you did."

Soujiro returned her smile. "Thank you, Ms. Misao."

"I am a little curious though," said Misao.

"How so?" asked Soujiro.

"Well, your arm and shoulder are the only things injured. So by all rights you could just Shukuchi along ahead. You could be in Tokyo in literally no time," said Misao.

Soujiro laughed good-naturedly. "That's a very funny joke, Ms. Misao."

"I wasn't joking," replied an irate Misao.

"Please," said Soujiro, "Allow me to explain.

"As you know, the Shukuchi is a technique that exceeds even Mr. Himura's godlike speed. Even well trained eyes like Mr. Himura's can't see me when I move. On the other hand, I am in a similar position when I use the Shukuchi."

"What do you mean?" asked Misao.

"Because I am moving so fast," explained Soujiro, "Just as my enemy cannot see me; I cannot see anything around me, because according to my perceptions, it is moving too fast for me to register.

"What prevents me from killing myself by running into some kind of solid object is the fact that I can mentally envision the battlefield while I am using the Shukuchi and act on that visualization.

"But if I were to use the Shukuchi to travel, as you suggest, then I would not be able to constantly update my knowledge of the terrain unless I stopped every few feet, which of course would slow down my rate of travel, instead of speeding it up. As a result, I run the risk of severely injuring myself because I'm moving too fast to see where I'm going."

"Oh," said Misao, nodding in newfound understanding, "That makes sense."

* * *

Two days after she left, Akemi stepped off the platform into Tokyo. Her box was tucked under one arm as she stretched with the other. "Finally," she said. She knew that she had most likely beaten Soujiro to Tokyo by a week at the very least. If his pace was slower because he was injured, then it simply meant that she had that much more time to prepare for his arrival. She knew that Saitou had wanted her to wait until the Tenken was fully healed, but she still wanted to have everything ready for him before he arrived.

As she set off through the busy streets, Akemi drew admiring looks from several young men. She didn't even bother to return them as they were simply in her way. Akemi continued down the street as if she hadn't seen them.

A few blocks along the way, she heard a ruckus. Following the crowd of onlookers gravitating towards the experience, Akemi went to investigate. What she saw made her sigh in exasperation.

A squad of police, from the sword corps no less, were making trouble with some of the locals. Apparently they had caught a minor pickpocket, whom they had apprehended in brutal fashion. It seemed that they then had declared their intent to execute the man for his minor crime. The former victim had protested the harsh treatment, which had led to his arrest. A few other onlookers had objected as well, which resulted in them being arrested too. Now these sword-wielding officers had decided to execute the whole group.

Akemi couldn't believe her eyes. This was the same squad that had caused a similar disturbance over a year ago. Back then, the incident had been stopped by one Kenshin Himura, she knew from the reports. The officers had been detained, reprimanded and punished severely. They had been reinstated afterwards. But Akemi could now see that that was a mistake.

"For your criminal acts," announced the captain, "We will now execute you to ensure the safety of the government."

"And how does this action correlate with the government's safety?" Akemi inquired as she stepped out of the crowd. She ignored several warnings from the other onlookers, some whispered warnings to her, telling her to stop before she got herself killed. Akemi ignored them.

"And what makes you think that you have a right to question our authority, woman?" demanded one very apish officer. He loomed over Akemi, his body easily dwarfing her slight figure.

Akemi snorted disdainfully. "I am privileged to intervene because I represent the government," she replied, withdrawing a sheet of paper from within the sleeve of her kimono. "I am Akemi Ebisu, special agent of the Department of Internal affairs. Now, explain to me how exactly this is reinforcing the government's authority."

The officer, who had been threatening her a moment ago, stepped down amid a storm of whispers from the crowd. Several of the officers were looking at one another indecisively. There was no doubt that her papers were genuine. They were almost too shocked to speak.

Finally, the captain addressed her question. "By destroying the seeds of evil before they can take root, we ensure that evil is eliminated in its earliest form. The spectacle of their deaths will serve as a reminder to the rest of the populace of what happens when one goes against the government."

Akemi raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Is that so?" She smirked. "You disappoint me, captain. A heinous action like this will only brew discontent against the government. You say that you destroy the seeds of evil before they can take root, but in reality, you only sow the seeds of discontent that we will have to reap later down the road when the anger of the people reaches the boiling point."

"Shut up," snapped the captain, "These people are criminals. They are thieves and insurgents. And as such, they must die!"

"Two," said Akemi, holding up two fingers. The captain looked at her questioningly. "You have overstepped the boundaries of your authority on two points." She lowered one finger. "First, you have used excessive force. Even if these people you have arrested truly are criminals, their crimes are not enough to warrant such treatment." She held up the second finger. "Second, you are dispensing punishment out of order. Now that they have been apprehended, the fate of these so-called criminals is to be determined by the official magistrate. You no longer have any say in determining their fate. You should have taken them into custody then attempted to prove them guilty in the court of law.

"It is people like you, who overstep the bounds of your authority and act outside of the rules of established law that undermine the government's authority. If you continue to proceed in this manner," threatened Akemi, "Then I will have no choice but to report you to my superiors. You won't get any second chances this time."

The captain's eyes narrowed dangerously. In a single fluid motion, he drew his sword, stopping the point right in front of her face. "You can't stop us if you don't survive to report us," said the captain. He smiled evilly.

To his surprise, Akemi returned his smile. "Are you sure you want to do that?" she asked slyly, "Threatening an official agent of the government in this manner constitutes treason. This, of course, is only punishable by execution. And unlike you, I am authorized by the government to pass judgment as I see fit in these situations."

The captain laughed disdainfully, a laugh that was echoed by several of his subordinates. "And who will inform the government once you're dead?" he asked, "They won't believe the word of this crowd of riffraff," he gestured contemptuously to the crowd, "And how can you possibly pass judgments on us? We are the police swordsmen, an elite unit, chosen because of our skill. You don't stand a chance, woman."

Akemi sighed. "It's such a disappointment," she said sadly, "I'm afraid that the government has no more use for you."

"What was that?" snarled the captain, "I won't stand for anymore of this. Kill her at once!"

Akemi merely sighed in annoyance as several sword-wielding officers closed in on her position.

* * *

The sun was high overhead, but they had gotten lucky. The group had found a tea house along the road. Ducking under the roof, they relaxed in the shade as they enjoyed some tea and dumplings that Misao had bought.

"Thank you for paying our way, Ms. Misao," said Soujiro, while Takezo nodded empathetically.

Misao smirked evilly. "Oh if you two think you can mooch off of me like that Sagara does Ms. Karou, you've got another thing coming. First, there's the initial price and then later on there'll be interest. Calculate into that how long it'll be before you two can even afford to pay me…" Misao's smirk became a full blown evil grin as she began to estimate what the two swordsmen would owe her.

Soujiro gulped and paled as he felt a very evil aura spilling out of the young ninja. Takezo was also beginning to look slightly nervous.

* * *

"What'da ya want with me," growled Chou as he stamped into Saitou's office, "I'm on leave if no one told ya!"

Saitou took a long drag on his cigarette as he looked over a sheaf of reports. Looking up, he simply gave Chou an acknowledging glance. "Despite that fact, failing to arrest a known criminal on sight can be considered dereliction of duty."

Chou paled as he met Saitou's amber eyes. The man had apparently learned about his secret meeting with Soujiro. "'Ave you been spyin' on me?" he asked, glaring at the officer with his single open eye.

Saitou merely snorted. "You yourself are a former criminal, one of Shishio's Juppongatana, no less. Your actions in the ten years since the revolution would be considered high treason by anyone's standards. Did you simply think that if you became an agent of the government that they'd stop watching over you just like that?" Saitou smirked at Chou. "Even if my men are too busy to follow you doesn't mean that the agents of other offices aren't looking after you. And they always show the consideration to tell me what they have learned."

If anything, Chou's complexion paled even further. "So what're ya goin' ta do about it?" he asked curiously.

"To be honest," replied Saitou, "Absolutely nothing. I have already entrusted the matter of the Tenken's apprehension to my most capable agent. Either Akemi will persuade him to pay his debt to society by soliciting his skills for our use, or she will see to it that he no longer proves to be a threat."

Chou gulped. "Ya mean ta tell me that ya're sending that there she-wolf after that poor kid."

Saitou chuckled. "Of course. Not to mention that we already know where the Tenken is bound for."

"Huh?" Chou hadn't the slightest clue as to that fact.

"Soujiro Seta is undoubtedly going to seek refuge in the Kamiya dojo while recovering from his injuries," said Saitou, "And when he arrives, he will find Akemi Ebisu waiting for him." The man blew out a stream of smoke in Chou's direction.

Chou was shaking. "No, no way!" Even Chou was more than a little intimidated by Akemi Ebisu, who wielded one of the most lethal fighting techniques he had ever seen. Her swords seemed to defy the laws of nature and she could do things that no human could ever do. On top of that, her personality was as cold and ruthless, if not more so than her teacher, Saitou. The thought of Soujiro facing that woman made his blood run cold.

Chou turned to leave, about to dash to the train station and hop the next train Tokyo-way. He had to somehow intercept Soujiro and keep him from fighting Akemi.

"Going somewhere?" asked Saitou, his tone stopping the sword-collector in his tracks, "Due to an emergency, your leave is terminated. As of this moment you are back on active duty."

"What the?" demanded Chou, whirling around to face Saitou.

Saitou was no longer smirking. "Soujiro is Akemi's business now. Let her deal with the matter. I'm afraid that we face an even graver problem…"

* * *

Akemi quietly put her weapons back in their case. Turning away from the scene of her latest action, she walked calmly through a much thinner crowd of onlookers. Many of the few remaining looked as though they were going to be sick. Akemi ignored their terrified stares as she made her way to the nearest police station to inform the local authorities about her latest work.

Behind her, the source of the crowd's uneasiness lay splattered across the rood and the storefronts where the brief skirmish (if one could call it that) had taken place. The police swordsmen were no longer recognizable as their bodies had been cut into pieces, splattering blood and gore far and wide across the road. Some body parts leaned limply against walls while others sprawled out across the ground. It was one of the most gruesome things that Tokyo had ever seen.

And yet, unlike her previous ventures, Akemi Ebisu did not have a single drop of blood on her body.

* * *

A week later, the group's destination was in sight. Soujiro, Misao and Takezo now stood on the path leading to the entrance of Tokyo. "Well," said Soujiro, "We're here."

Misao smiled and nodded. "It'll be great to see Himura, Ms. Karou and the others."

Takezo merely looked forward. Soujiro noticed that his friend's expression and personality had been changing dramatically as they had gotten closer to Tokyo. His expression had grown more sullen, his mood more withdrawn. He rarely responded to anything Soujiro said. Indeed, he seemed to be behaving almost mechanically. Soujiro was becoming slightly unnerved by his friend's strange behavior. However, he couldn't think of anything to do about it.

"We'll stop by this great restaurant I know before we head on over to Ms. Karou's place," said Misao, as she led them through Tokyo's streets. Eventually, Misao brought them to a large beef pot restaurant.

"Ah," said Soujiro, "I remember this place."

"You do?" asked Misao.

"Yeah," replied Soujiro, "I ate here the last time I came through Tokyo. It was when I…" Soujiro's voice trailed off as his mind traveled back to the last time he had been there. His expression became forlorn. _That's right,_ he thought, _It__ was **that** day._

"When you what?" Misao prompted, unaware of the source of Soujiro's melancholy mood.

"The day I killed Mr. Okubo," replied Soujiro softly. He had spoken quietly, so the other people in the street hadn't heard him.

"Oh," said Misao, clapping a hand over her mouth. In traveling with the normally cheerful young swordsman, she had grown use to him having an almost constant cheerful attitude. However briefly, she had forgotten the truth about who he had been. He had been a ruthless assassin who had killed at every one of Makoto Shishio's whims.

Soujiro suddenly looked at her. He was smiling again. But Misao could see that it was strained and he was trying to hide his pain. Still, she pretended she didn't notice. It wouldn't be proper to force all of Soujiro's painful memories into the open, not in a public venue like this.

"Let's go inside," she said softly. On Soujiro's other side, Takezo nodded his agreement. Together, the three of them walked through the doors of the Akebeko.

* * *

Tae Sekihara, the manager of the restaurant, had an almost limitless memory for faces. It was essential for her role as the person who was in charge of the day to day affairs of the restaurant. Tae's remarkable memory allowed her to remember the faces of even the most obscure visitors. She could even remember the approximate time of their visit to the restaurant. The fact that she was able to welcome people who came multiple times, even if months passed between their visits, and remember them only added to the comfortable atmosphere of the restaurant.

Thus, she was quick to recognize Misao, whom she knew well enough, thanks to a certain sister of hers in Kyoto. "Ms. Misao," she said gleefully as Misao, Soujiro and Takezo came in the door, "It's so nice to see you again. It's been more than a year, hasn't it?"

"It's good to see you too, Ms. Tae," replied Misao, waving.

Misao turned to look at Soujiro. "I remember you," she said predictably, "You actually came in here around the same time that Ms. Misao visited us, though not at exactly the same time."

"It's nice that you would remember me," replied Soujiro, scratching the back of his head as he smiled nervously, "My name is Soujiro Seta. It's nice to be back."

"Well," said Tae, turning to regard Takezo, "You must be new here. Hmm…" Tae examined Takezo's face closely for a moment. "You look just like a man I know by the name of Himura."

Takezo didn't flinch and his face didn't change in the slightest. But Soujiro, Misao and Tae knew immediately that the woman had hit a nerve. The air around Takezo turned bone-chillingly cold. Misao shivered slightly. She didn't even feel anger or hatred in Takezo's aura. It was hard to describe. He was just…cold.

Tae gulped nervously, but shrugged the feeling off as she led the trio to an open booth. She left them to greet other customers while another waitress took their order.

* * *

Akemi couldn't believe her luck. She had just settled into the Akebeko for a nice midday meal when who should walk in, but her quarry. Soujiro Seta came in the front door as plain as day. It took all of Akemi's strength not to arrest him at that very moment. Instead, she calmly observed Soujiro and his two companions, Misao Makimachi and someone else whom she did not know, with her peripheral vision as they ate their own lunch. Experience had taught her that martial artists often had an extra sense that seemed to warn them when somebody was directly observing them. In her experience, Akemi had found that utilizing her peripheral senses and not observing targets directly greatly lowered the chances of them noticing they were being watched.

Akemi quickly arrived at a decision not to follow them whenever they decided to leave. She knew where they were going anyway. She also noticed that Soujiro still had his arm in a sling, courtesy of Saitou. Considering how long it had been since the incident with Matahachi and the fact that Soujiro appeared to be mostly untroubled by his injury led Akemi to determine that it wouldn't be much longer until he healed.

Smiling at this thought, Akemi paid her bill and departed, leaving Soujiro and his friends to enjoy their meal. Akemi Ebisu would make his life Hell soon enough. _Just you wait, Tenken,_ she thought with all the venom she could muster, _I will enjoy the feeling of giving you a taste of my justice._

* * *

Soujiro felt a chill go down his spine. It was as if somebody was driving daggers of ice into his skin. "Are you alright?" asked Misao, "You started looking a little pale all of a sudden." Next to her, Takezo nodded in agreement.

Soujiro's voice was distant. "I suddenly felt cold. For a moment I thought I felt a powerful killing intent from outside, but I don't feel anything anymore." He rubbed the back of his head nervously. "I'm alright now. It's nothing, really. I'm sure that it was just my imagination."

Misao gulped as she remembered Okina telling her that the police may have already anticipated Soujiro's move to Tokyo. "I think we should go visit Himura and the others as soon as we're done."

The air once again grew cold. This time, the source was Takezo.

* * *

"Oro!" Kenshin watched as Karou dashed from stall to stall in the market. Sometimes he found himself wondering where the woman got her seemingly limitless energy from. Even he, the former legendary manslayer, who had fought his way through countless assassins, was beginning to get a little tired. And who could blame him. A man would have to be more than human to keep up with a woman in uber-shopping mode.

"Ms. Karou," said Kenshin, "It's getting a little late. Don't you think that we should perhaps return home now."

Karou ignored him and continued to fawn over the various wares being marketed.

"Give up," growled Yahiko, by Kenshin's side, "Once that ugly woman gets going, there's no stopping her."

POW! Yahiko ended up on the ground with a tremendous lump on the top of his head as a very menacing Karou stood over him, fist cocked to deliver a second blow, should the young man decide to say anything further.

"Oro!" Kenshin could do very little in such a situation. _It certainly did get her attention, though._ "Ms. Karou, perhaps we should head home. It will be time to prepare dinner soon, that it will."

"You're right of course, Kenshin," replied Karou cheerfully.

"Oro." No matter how many times he saw it for himself, Kenshin never would be able to get used to Karou's seemingly random mood swings. He continued to stare as Karou walked past him, dragging a slightly less than conscious Yahiko behind her by the collar of his kimono.

"Ah," said a familiar sounding voice behind him, "There you are, Mr. Himura."

Kenshin spun around to face someone he hadn't expected to see for a very long time. "Soujiro," was all that Kenshin could force past his lips. He was astonished to see the young man in Tokyo. Granted, Chou had never said where Soujiro might have gone, but still, to just run into him in the street seemed odd. What was even odder was Soujiro's condition. The young man's right arm was in a sling. Apparently, he had been less than fortunate in his travels.

"It's nice to see you again, Mr. Himura," said Soujiro cheerfully while he smiled. Kenshin thought he detected a sense of genuine happiness behind that smile, not like the empty ones that Soujiro had born before.

"You've changed," was all that Kenshin could say.

"Hey Kenshin!" shouted Yahiko, coming up behind him, "Are you coming or not?" Yahiko suddenly noticed Soujiro. "Hey! Who's this guy?" he asked, pointing at Soujiro.

"Kenshin," said Karou as she joined them, "Is he a friend of yours."

Both Soujiro and Kenshin paused. Soujiro scratched his head, considering his answer carefully. "Well, not exactly."

"HIMURA!" Kenshin nearly toppled over as Misao collided with him. The unfortunate rurouni swore he could almost hear his bones creaking as she enveloped him in a massive hug.

"Misao!" exclaimed Karou, excitedly as she pried the girl off of Kenshin and into an embrace of her own, "What are you doing here in Tokyo."

"Hey," said Yahiko, "It's the weasel." Yahiko once again found himself on the ground, this time with two lumps on his head.

"Ms. Misao," said Kenshin carefully, "Why are you traveling with Soujiro?"

"Well," said Misao, just as cheerfully as Soujiro, "Kyoto isn't safe for him anymore, so we decided it would be best if Soujiro stayed in Tokyo for a while; at least until his wounds heal."

"Wounds," said Kenshin, raising an eyebrow. He turned to face Soujiro. "You mean to say that you've been fighting."

Soujiro sighed, his smile slipping away. The change in his expression unnerved and relieved Kenshin at the same time. "You could say that," he said dourly, "Mr. Saitou certainly did a number on me."

"WHAT!" roared Yahiko, "THAT CRAZY COP'S STILL ALIVE!"

Soujiro scratched his head nervously. "I'm afraid so," he said carefully. Looking around, he glanced at the people around them. "Um," he said, "We might want to take this conversation to a more private place. I'm afraid that I'm still wanted by the law."

Kenshin and Karou were about to extend the invitation into their home when someone brushed right past Soujiro and Misao. For a moment, Yahiko thought he was seeing double. The young man looked just like another Kenshin, with black hair instead of read and an absence of the cross-shaped scar. He also obviously preferred blue instead of purple.

Without a glance at Kenshin or anyone else, the young man passed on Kenshin's left. Almost too late, Kenshin noticed the sword the young man wore on his side. As he walked past Kenshin, the end of his sheath, ever so lightly, brushed against the sheath of Kenshin's sword.

There was no time for hesitation. Without even thinking, Kenshin stepped forward and to his right, spinning around. As he did so, he used the power of his turn to pull his sword from its sheath. Spinning all the way around, Kenshin brought his sword against the other man's. The two reverse-blade swords came together with an impressive ring of steel upon steel. Kenshin's opponent had mirrored his Battoujutsu flawlessly. The two of them now stood deadlocked, their blades still grinding against one another. Kenshin found himself more than a little disturbed, by the look of quiet intensity in the young man's eyes.

"And who," asked Kenshin, carefully, "Might you be?"

* * *

AN: Chapter 8 is finally done. I had originally planned something longer, but I decided that a cliffhanger would be better. The duel between Kenshin and Takezo starts in the next chapter. Also, Akemi introduces herself to some of Soujiro's new friends. As for the events surrounding the reappearance of Shishio, expect them to be quiet for a little while longer. All in all, I hope it was worth the wait. And if it wasn't, I promise the next chapter will be much more interesting, and out much sooner. And now on to various comments. First off...

Soujiro's explanation of the Shukuchi: One of my greatest pet peeves about stories in which Soujiro participates is the fact that so many of them trivialtize the Shukuchi. It's already in a humor story where such exageration is expected. However, when a supposedly serious (that is to say non-parody type story) has Soujiro using the Shukuchi to do every little thing (such as traveling long distances, running errands and so on), it really grates on my nerves. This little explanation bit was my justification for Soujiro not doing what do many authors portray him as doing.

The incident between Kenshin and Takezo that occurs at the end of the chapter is known as a Saya-ette. It's an old piece of samurai edicate. According to the samurai code of honor, touching's one sheath, especially with another's sheath, is paramount to an attack on the person who is wearing the touched sword. Such an offense demands instant retaliation and the offended party is obligated to strike down the offender. In a situation where two walking samurai bump against each other's sheaths in the street, it is impossible to officially declare who the offended party is. As a result this results in many one strike duels. This method is especially heavily practiced in iai (sword drawing) schools. Some swordsmen intentionally initiate a saya-ette as a test of their speed and skill. The frequency of such incidents led the government to order people to walk on the left side of the road. Because the sword is worn on the left side, making people pass on the right prevents unintentional saya-ettes from occuring. This is why the Japanese drive on the left side of the road in modern times.


End file.
